Dichotomy of Good and Evil
by NightElfCrawler
Summary: The Decepticons had lost the war, and most spectacularly. But the end of the war may have brought peace with a price. Now it was up to Optimus Prime to set things right, but was the right thing to do something that would inevitably repeat past events?
1. Chapter 1

**Dichotomy of Good and Evil**

By: nightelfcrawler

_Author's Note: M/M quite obviously here, along with non-consensual relationships, and violence. Another story I've had sitting around for a while I figured I would publish._

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**Chapter One**

The Decepticons had lost, and quite spectacularly to boot. It wasn't a glorious battle by any means, and it wasn't the Autobot's most proud moment either. However, it had been a completely crushing defeat.

It had been a plan worthy of the Decepticons themselves, and not one the Autobots were particularly proud of. However, it had been effective. Megatron was in custody, along with the rest of the Decepticons, every single survivor offlined for safety during their custody and subsequent return trip to Cybertron.

It had been a moment to be proud of. There was celebrations across the planet, parties in the streets, and much rejoicing.

That was, until the newly re-instated council informed Optimus Prime what they intended to do with their prisoners.

He couldn't say he was surprised at their decision, but he was disgusted. War Crimes. All those who were on the losing end were always tried for war crimes, those who had been the victors were seen as heroes despite the same energon spoiled their hands. Optimus Prime had spoken of this, spoken for the rights of the Decepticons who had essentially been no trouble since they had been taken into custody. They were prisoners, true, but they still were sentient beings, and they had rights. They were to be awarded a trial, given genuine defense council, and treated fairly.

It was ironic how they had fought so hard to restore Cybertron to it's former glory, only to have the very same corrupt practices be put back in place once more.

Megatron had been executed. No trial, no hearing, just a public execution. The Decepticon Leader had remained defiant to the end, but that hadn't saved him. No Decepticon was permitted to be present for the process, though the room was packed with Autobots. After his spark was systematically extinguished, his body was liquefied so there was no question he was gone.

Optimus Prime had been removed from his position of leader, the excuse being they were no longer in a war-time era, and therefore his experience was not needed. He was treated as a war hero, of course, and being the Matrix-bearer, he still was allotted privileges, but no real power in the Senate. Therefore, he had no choice but to stand silently as the Council brought every Decepticon into their chambers, shackled and looking rather ragged from months of being detained. There were too many of them to simply destroy, and even the Council wasn't so corrupt as to order mass execution of every mech. Instead, they were sentenced to labor in the energon mines of Kaon, exiled from ever leaving the city, given meager rations to survive, and would live their lives out there.

As the motley bunch began to shuffle their way towards their waiting sentence, Optimus recalled scanning their figures once more. He knew them all, knew their battle tactics, knew their quirks in battle. In that one moment, his optics paused in the broad sweep of the defeated figures to alight on the only pair of optics that dared stare up in his direction. They hadn't been directed at him, but rather the entirety of the Council, however as he met the burning red gaze, the optics shifted to stare back at him, and only him. In that moment, he saw defiance, anger, betrayal and fear in the optics of the former Decepticon 2nd in command. Starscream was the only one standing tall, wings dirty but still proudly jutting at his sides, optics bold and fearless as he met the former Autobot leader's gaze.

In that one moment, they shared an understanding, even if it was slight. Disappointment for them both. Optimus, because this was not the world he had envisioned. Starscream, because the noble Autobot sentimentality had been just as much a lie as any Decepticon could weave. It was in that moment that Optimus felt a sudden weight on his spark, a pressure that was unnatural and unfamiliar.

Guilt.

He never saw another Decepticon again. Not for a hundred vorns.

* * *

"Optimus?" The voice snapped him out of his thoughts, as he glanced up from his data pad, blinking at the mech in front of him. "You drifted on me."

"Sorry Ratchet." Optimus Prime sighed, rubbing his nasal bridge tiredly. "My thoughts are running with me. What were you saying?"

"I was saying, you really should get out now and then." The white mech smiled gently, his optics kind. "You spend far too much time cooped up in here by yourself. It's not good for your health."

"I find it preferable to being out there, my old friend." Optimus smiled tiredly. "No matter where I go, optics follow me, both resentful and respectful. I can't help but wonder if it might be better if I just found some remote city to retire in rather than continue to remain close to the action."

"You always say that." The Chief of Cybertron Medical chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. "And yet you never take action. I think you can't deny that whether it's you or the Matrix, you're drawn to be part of the action. It's who you are."

Despite what I might wish, Optimus thought privately, but merely nodded slightly in response. "I apologize for drifting off on you. What were you about to tell me? Something about contamination?"

"Yes." Ratchet said, smile fading. "I've reported my findings to the Senate, and they insist that there must be some kind of problem with the batch. Yet, this energon hasn't come from just one batch that I can trace." He leaned forward, frowning a bit. "The energon is tainted, and it's getting worse, Optimus. It started out as just some discomfort, but one of these days I expect to see a mech come into my clinic and there will be nothing I can do to stop his systems from shutting down one at a time. Whether the council wants to admit it or not, we do have a medical problem. They just don't care because the energon is the lower grade stuff, that which gets sold on the main market, and doesn't enter their own homes." He sighed. "I know you don't have weight with the Council anymore, but you DO command respect. I figured, since I cannot spare the staff to look into the contamination at it's source, perhaps you might be willing to do so, if only to get to the root of the problem."

Optimus frowned. "Just what kind of effects does this contamination have? I still find it difficult to believe the council simply turns their back on something you have proof of."

"That's just the thing." Ratchet said frowning. "It's subtle. You could drink a cube and feel nothing, and be fine with just one cube. However, if you kept drinking that as your regular fuel supply, you would begin to find your energy declining, you would require more recharge to feel normal, and once it began to affect your systems you would start to feel tremors in your limbs, followed by systems failures. It attacks lesser systems first, as your repair systems protect the critical systems primarily, but it would be a very slow and very painful decline." His optics lowered. "So far, the only way I have found to stop the progression is to completely purge the affected mech's body of the toxic energon and put him in a recharge bunk until his systems finally are repaired. To date I haven't lost one yet… but the last one was close, Optimus. Not to mention he couldn't afford the treatment, but I'll be fragged if I'm going to let a mech die because they couldn't afford the costs. But this is becoming more frequent, Optimus. And whether they want to believe it or not, it's spreading."

"And your guess? Is this a virus we're dealing with?"

"Not that I can tell. It shows all the classic signs of some kind of energon contamination, though one I've never found records for yet. It's undetectable in the fuel itself, trust me I've tried purchasing various cubes from vendors to test them, and even scanned a partially consumed one that we knew came from a contaminated batch, and found nothing. We need to get to the root of this and soon. Unfortunately, the Council can't be bothered to look into it." He sighed. "I know it's out of your jurisdiction, but…"

"No, I would be interested in investigating." Optimus assured him, frowning thoughtfully as he stroked his battle mask with his fingers, tracing a deep gouge that had been left after their last battle and he had not had removed. Some wounds were meant to be kept. "I'll do what I can to find out where the batch is coming from, but without any way of tracing it, how can we find the root of the issue?"

"Well, we know that it isn't affecting the energon we get our supplies from." Ratchet pointed out. "So I've narrowed it down to shipment Delta five, ten and fifteen. They all come from the same Energon mine, unsurprisingly." He shook his head. "But there are other batches that are fine, so obviously this batch is near something toxic. The problem will be tracing it down to the exact source."

Optimus smiled a little, optics sparkling. "Well, a little mystery is something that could be quite along the lines that I need, wouldn't you agree?"

"I thought exactly the same thing." Was the amused response. "Here's what I know. The Delta shipments come in monthly, and fortunately for you one is due tomorrow night. The foreman is a mech called Blackforge, and I've spoken to him. He's a reasonable guy, and he probably would be willing to let you return with them to Kaon, but Optimus…" Ratchet frowned warningly. "Please watch your back. I know Kaon has been tightly controlled since the end of the war, but that doesn't mean that there aren't those who still harbor ill will towards us."

Optimus smiled lightly behind his mask. "I believe I am well capable of defending myself, Ratchet."

The medic smiled. "I know. But I had to say something." He rose and grasped Optimus' hand tightly as the former Autobot leader shook it firmly. "Let me know the moment you uncover anything. I've asked Skyfire to keep in touch in case he can be of any help with the analysis, after all bio-contaminants are his specialty."

"As soon as I know anything, so shall you my friend."

There wasn't much to prepare for, seeing as he wasn't sure what he would be searching for. However, Optimus made sure he stocked himself up well with any firepower he might need. While he was certain the guards at Kaon had their wards under control, one couldn't be too careful. Still, when he emerged from the alleyway near the loading docks, doubt tugged at his spark as he saw just what lay before him.

The mechs unloading the energon were strong enough, quickly passing the heavy loads onto the barges, barking commands to those dragging the crates out from the hold of the ship. However, it was those mechs that made Optimus' spark ache painfully. They were all painted a uniform grey, and at first he thought they were one specific line or model. But as one turned and he saw a smaller mech half bent under the weight of the crate, shuffling quickly as a yellow one barked orders, he realized that they weren't the same model at all. Furthermore, his optics scanned the grey mechs and spotted bright red energy collars locked around each of their necks. Bold black numbers were stamped onto each of their chests, indicating quite clearly that these were not just any mechs, but prisoners, Decepticons.

Optimus Prime felt a sick feeling well up inside his tanks. The dealings of Kaon had remained strictly confidential, and since he was not an active member of the council, he was not included in how the city was meant to function. As long as the energon kept coming in, no one cared.

As he watched, one of the mechs stumbled under the weight of the crate. Without warning, a black mech with a long glowing rod came forward and smacked him hard across the back with a stoic expression. The mech cried out in pain, crumbling to the ground, curling up as the mech unleashed another blow, and another. It only went on for a mere handful of seconds, during which Optimus crossed the distance to the barge rapidly in his long strides, the mech had fallen still and was laying clearly offline on the barge. The black mech straightened, nudge the mech with a foot, and then gestured to one of the others nearby. "Get him below." The other made no sign of hesitating, but scooped up the mech by his arms and dragged him back into the hold without question. It was only then when the black mech noticed Optimus standing there, optics narrowed in fury. "What do you…" He paused, optics widening. "Oh, sir." He straightened quickly. "What do we owe the pleasure?"

"Just what was the purpose of beating a mech offline?" Optimus Prime said coldly, his voice like ice as he pulled himself up to his full height, towering over the other mech. "Would not a simple reprimand be necessary if he were not performing adequately?"

The mech blinked, and gave him a curious look. "You must not know how things work around here, no offense meant sir. These mechs require a strong hand to keep the rest in line." He nodded to the side, where other grey mechs were busy finishing the unloading. "These rods are meant to cause pain, but they do no permanent damage. We do not wish to lose our workers."

Optimus frowned, studying the mech with a disapproving gaze. "These mechs have rights. They may be serving sentences, but while I am here you will not raise your hand to one again, am I clear?" His gaze bore down intently on the black mech, who cringed a little. Though it might have been his imagination, Optimus swore he saw a few gazes from the workers shift his way.

"Yes sir, as you wish." The black mech didn't look happy. "Now, is there something I can assist you with? We are behind schedule and have another delivery to make."

Optimus frowned. "Are you Blackforge?"

"I am."

"Then I have business with you."

The mech blinked. "I ah, don't recall having business with the Prime, sir. To what do you refer?"

"I require passage to Kaon, and your full co-operation in investigating a serious threat to the well-being of the citizens of Cybertron."

At first, Blackforge stood a little taller, feeling important. "Of course, sir, anything I can do to help the Prime."

"Do you know anything about the contaminated energon supply that has been distributed among the docks?"

Blackforge stiffened. "Sir, my supply is clean. We test it once before leaving Kaon, and again shortly before arrival. In that time, no one is permitted into the cargo hold where the sealed containers are. There is NO chance of contamination, I assure you."

"I am not questioning your diligence." Optimus said calmly, not wishing to antagonize the mech without provocation. He had no doubt that he was doing his duty, and had no responsibility in this matter. "The contamination is apparently impossible to detect under normal methods, which is why I must investigate the mines where the infected batches have come from to discover if there is anything in common that might be causing the energon to be toxic beyond our scanning methods."

Blackforge blinked but nodded, shoulders relaxing slightly as it became aware he was not at fault. "I see. Well, I'm not sure the foreman will be very favorable to an inspection, but it's not my place to deny you passage to speak with him." He frowned. "I'm afraid we don't have any dignitary cabins…"

"No need." Optimus said quickly. "I do not require any special accommodations. I will take what is available."

"Then I'm afraid there is none available." Blackforge said grimly. "My cabin is the only one. The prisoners are kept in the hold down below, so the deck is mostly free except for the patrols. You can have free reign as you wish, if that meets your approval."

"It will be fine. It is a short journey."

Blackforge inclined his head, and turned to go back to supervising the unloading. Optimus stepped aboard the barge, and stood watching. The black mech was true to his word and didn't raise the rod again, but ensured the workers did their duty and finished unloading. Once they had, they marched themselves back in a line down into the hold. Only three remained outside, and closed the doors, locking them, then assisted Blackforge in preparing the barge to depart. Optimus found a wall to sit down against near the front of the barge, and watched as the docks shrunk away as the ship departed. They traveled across the city, gliding slowly, then landed at the secondary docks. Here, Prime watched as the workers unfiled again, and continued unloading. They did their jobs in silence, never speaking or looking at anyone, efficient and quick about their duties. Finally, the final unloading was finished, and the workers filed back into the hold, secured once more. The ship departed, rising higher into the sky as it turned course towards Kaon. The barge was not the fastest transport, and thus the trip would take at least a day to reach it's destination. This gave Optimus plenty of time to study the data Ratchet had given him. Blackforge offered him energon to pass the time, but despite Ratchet's assurance that a few cubes of the tainted material would not affect him, he had still taken care to pack his own, and politely refused.

The data was not very helpful. It detailed the steps Ratchet had taken to find the source of the problem. From what he read, the medic knew what he was doing and was fairly sure of himself in having traced what he thought was the source. The process involved using energon samples on tested nanites and seeing their reactions. It was a complicated and painstaking process of elimination that had obviously taken time. He was impressed with the level of complicity to it, and had to admit Ratchet knew what he was doing. Sighing, he put the data pad back into his subspace, and glanced up, blinking as for the briefest moment he saw a flash of red staring at him. But just as quickly as he'd noticed, it was gone as the grey mech turned and returned swiping a cleaner across the deck, slowly making his way across the surface. Frowning, Optimus rose and slowly walked over to the worker. As he approached, he could see deep gouges, score marks and dents that littered the mech's frame. He also noted that there were patched up welds on his back and forearms that had been poorly welded. It was ugly and mismatched. Once again, the mech risked a glance over at him, but froze when it noticed that he had approached. For a moment, he saw fear flash over the mech's face, and he instinctively knew why. "It's all right." He said in a low voice. "I have no intention of informing Blackforge of anything." The mech still refused to look up, returning to his work polishing the deck. Optimus frowned, but knew there would be no pushing if the mech insisted on not breaking whatever rules he was operating under. Instead, he un-subspaced a cube of energon, and left it on the deck, returning to his seat and offlining his optics as he slipped into light recharge. He only slipped out of his nap when he heard a light clink of metal nearby. On-lining his optics, he focused upwards, only to find the mech standing a few feet away, empty energon in hand, turning it over slightly as he stared down at him, crimson gaze wary, but thoughtful. Optimus smiled slightly, taking the unspoken words. "You're welcome." He said quietly.

The mech frowned slightly, and for a long moment, he thought he would be left alone once more. But then, the mech slowly came into a crouch, staring at him the whole while. "Why?" The words were soft, whispered barely audible, vocalizer hoarse and raw from lack of use, making it impossible to determine with whom he was speaking. As his optics roamed over the bold numbers burned into his chassis, 0443, he picked up on a few more patches. Solid metal with unsightly welds on his chest, but what was more startling was the slightly bell-shaped feet that clearly had not been able to be altered, the only faint reminder of what the mech's alt for might have been at one point.

Optimus' gaze shifted upwards, staring at the mech, trying to determine who he was. "Because." He said quietly, and the unspoken words between them said more than that which was spoken aloud.

The mech frowned slightly, optics narrowing in thought, shifting briefly to scan the deck and ensure they were still alone. "We're not infected, you know." He said in a low voice, hoarse and faint, deep and thoughtful. "Not us. We're here on good behavior. This is the best gig."

Optimus frowned. "The best?"

"Yes. It's not in the mines." A flash of sudden fear and panic crossed over those crimson depths, before it was swallowed up by apathy again. "We're the lucky ones."

"I'm sorry."

The mech stared down at him sharply, optics searching, but surprisingly not hostile. After a long moment, they lowered. "I suppose you are." Was the sullen response. "But tell me, Optimus Prime. Would things have been any different if WE had won?"

He frowned. He had often thought about that very thing. Indeed, what would have happened if the Decepticons would have won? Surely the Autobots would have either been executed, or treated in similar manner. He smiled tightly, though it didn't show. "I suppose not." He said quietly. "But this hardly meets what I had envisioned for a time of peace."

The mech snorted slightly, and a very faint smile crossed his facial plates. "Most of us deserved it." His optics lifted, frowning in thought. "Justice. It's a word used wonderful in theory, but in practicality is thrown aside, prejudiced by emotions."

So true, Optimus thought. "If there is anything I can do…"

The mech's gaze shifted, and hardened. "Put a stop to the mines." He said in a low firm voice. "You have no idea. None. Most of them are mad. Stark raving mad. No one cares, as long as the work is done." His lips pushed tightly together. "I know them all, Optimus. To see them reduced to that… despite what we've done…" His head lifted quickly, and in a flash he was gone, pushing the cleaning device back against the deck, as if he'd never stopped.

Blackforge appeared, stretching slightly as he approached. "He's not giving you any trouble is he?" He asked, nodding to the mech.

"No, none."

"Good." The mech nodded in satisfaction. "He's one of the more reliable ones. Does what he's asked, doesn't cause trouble. It's rare finding those in the group we have to work with."

Optimus Prime's lips pushed together behind his mask as he watched the mech work. How sad.. to think that such a one as he had once been the elite of the elite, soaring high above the skies as it's master… now reduced to wiping the very ground mechs walked on, his only solace in the fact he could SEE the sky when others of his brethren could not.

"We'll be arriving shortly. The foreman is expecting you."

"Thank you." He nodded, watching as Blackforge departed, shifting his gaze over to the working mech. It pained his spark, yet he knew that he was right… they had it good, compared to the others.

* * *

The moment he lay eyes upon Kaon, Optimus Prime felt ill. Kaon had never been the best example of modern mechs, it was a place where the hard-working did what was required to keep the upper class happy. Pollution hung thick in the atmosphere, the entire place seemed somber and dark with the ruins of buildings towering nearby. The immediate area close to the mines had been converted into barracks for the prisoners, tall and formidable walls and gates encircling the area. As the barge parked in the shipyard, he watched as lines of mechs flowed out of the hold and down into dark holes that were only dimly lit. A strong putrid smell wafted to his nasal sensors, and rather than fight the urge to empty his tanks, he offlined that function to avoid the stench.

The foreman was waiting for him, grinning broadly. "Welcome, Prime!" It was quite clear that he thought Optimus' being here was a good sign, as he had spent time to polish his round red frame, not a speck of dirt on it. The foreman was a squat mech, but large, and clearly designed for heavy work duty. Yet, he walked with the pompous air that reminded Optimus strongly of the politicians he knew. "To what do we honor your visit?"

"I am here on business." Optimus said firmly, approaching the red mech and scanning the mine entrances. Armed guards and barriers were in place, preventing any chance escapee from making his getaway. His gaze shifted back to the foreman, who was frowning. "I am investigating a source of contamination that has not been detected through the normal means of filtration."

The moment he said those words, having expected the foreman to react as Blackforge had, Optimus Prime knew that the foreman was wiser than he let on. His optics narrowed slightly, his lips tightened, and his posture tensed. "I see. And what do you expect to find here? I run clean mines. Any contamination is out of my hands."

Optimus watched him closely. Oh yes, he knew exactly what the issue was… which meant, as Ratchet had suspected, the mechs mining the energon had to be infected. The foreman showed no outwards symptoms himself, and that meant he was not drinking the same energon as his wards. And it also meant he wasn't about to let any clues fly. "I would like to inspect each mine, if that is possible. I'm unsure what precisely I am searching for, but perhaps an inspection might give me a direction to focus my search efforts."

"The mines are dangerous places." The foreman said, frowning with displeasure.

"I can fend for myself, I assure you."

"I am certain you can, sir." The foreman smirked slightly. "Your feats are legendary."

Optimus smiled tightly, inclining his head. "If you are concerned, you may of course send a small escort. I am sure I would become lost easily in the mines."

"No doubt." The foreman said, crossing his arms. "Can I ask how long this will take? We have tight schedules to keep."

"I cannot be sure. I assure you, full co-operation would help speed the process."

The foreman sighed, optic ridge twitching very slightly as it became evident he wasn't going to get anywhere trying to talk him out of his inspection. "Very well." He finally, glancing over and gesturing to a guard, who jogged over quickly. "Would you be so kind as to provide Optimus Prime with an escort through the mines. Ensure that he is given access to any level he wishes to go, and full co-operation from all prisoners. You might try interrogating some at the lower levels to find out if they know anything."

"Yes sir." The mech agreed, nodding to Optimus. "This way sir."

They made their way towards the first mine, and were given access past the gates. For the first hundred meters or so, the light illuminated the ground, but past that there was no light at all. Optimus switched to infrared, and saw nothing other than the occasional beacon placed to direct them. Eventually, they arrived at a lift and entered, and then began their descent. "How many levels are here?" He asked quietly, frowning at the rock walls as they descended.

"About twenty." The mech explained calmly. "The upper levels are mostly dry and not mined anymore, and the lowest levels have the most deposits and are mined heavily. Although the veins are growing scarcer lately." He shrugged slightly in the dim light of the lift. "We've been working at some of the deep veins hard to keep up with demand."

"And you haven't noticed any symptoms of anything?"

The mech blinked, and glanced at him. "Symptoms, sir?"

"Shaking limbs, weakness, illness, lack of energy…"

The mech seemed slightly startled. "Well, we get that here, sir. The prisoners don't want to work if they don't have to and make any excuse they can to get out of working to quota."

Optimus frowned more, glad his mask hid everything from view. It was obvious that those who worked here were either blinded to what was going on, or truly oblivious. In either case, he was going to have to uncover the truth himself. Once the lift opened at their destination, Optimus shifted his gaze to study the mine.

It was as dreary and depressing as he had imagined a slave mine would be. The walls were close in, pressing low to his head and making him duck as he moved through the mine. The place stunk of unwashed grime and oil, energon stale in the tunnels. The sound of picks and hammers filled the mine, and Optimus could see the dull glowing light of impure energon twisting through the rocks. As he walked, he noted that all the workers here seemed to be focused completely on their jobs, never once looking up, their backs to the two of them as they passed by. The guard kept his gun at the ready, but loosely held, obviously not expecting trouble. "As you can see, they work hard and do their tasks. If they cause no trouble, they are fed and given time to recharge. Those that do cause trouble usually are sent to this level to work longer hours. We keep the lift up on the top level unless we're down here, so there's no chance of escaping. We've also attached programming to their control collars that disables their vocalizers while they're at work, so they cannot spread collaborative efforts of trouble."

"Have there been no uprisings?" Optimus asked frowning.

"There were when the mines first were re-opened." The mech explained calmly. "But the troublemakers were weeded out and separated, taught their place, and the rebellions died down. We haven't had one in over fifty vorns now." Optimus frowned, but said nothing. Instead, he studied the mechs carefully. Despite their uniform grey armor painted with the bold black numbers, their shapes were varying. He saw bulky large mechs, and slender frail mechs, all working equally. He also noticed that every single one of them were stooped, moving slowly, shuffling, and seemed to be having trouble lifting their loads as they deposited them into the receptacles. It was painful to watch, even more so when he noted their hands were shaking. These mechs were contaminated, every single one of them. Their path led them to a small narrow niche where mechs were crammed in working hard at a brightly glowing vein of energon, glittering bright pink in the dim light. The crystallized rocks fell easily as the hammers hit, showering the mechs with fine pink dust, making their armor glow slightly as they worked. Here, Optimus noted that each strike of the pick seemed to hold less strength than a light punch to the face. "Well, this is it, sir. This is our most active vein, most of our stock comes from here. I'm not sure what you might find, but this would be it."

Optimus studied the vein, shifting his optics to a spectral scan. He could see nothing out of the ordinary here, yet it was more and more obvious that the mechs here were more potently affected by whatever mysterious illness was spreading. Those here were clearly very sick. He approached a vein, and lightly ran a finger along the surface of the vein. He took a small sample so Ratchet would have something to analyze before the distillation process. It was entirely possible that wherever it was being distilled, that could be the source rather than the energon itself. But then, he couldn't discount anything.

A low clatter drew his attention, and he glanced over his shoulder to see one of the mechs had stumbled under the weight of his burden, legs buckling and his load spilling across the floor. Briefly hammers paused as mechs glanced his way, then quickly went about their work as the guard approached. "Get up." The guard demanded, prodding at the mech's lower back with the butt of his gun. The mech struggled to obey, arms shaking as he tried to stand, but his legs crumpled again, limbs quivering with effort. "I said, get up!" The mech stated, stronger, tone turning angry when the prisoner clearly didn't react as swiftly as he'd expected. The mech struggled again, but this time couldn't even find the strength to lift his legs, and simply crouched there, body quivering. Without warning, the mech slammed the butt of his gun into the mech's neck, and he dropped firmly to the ground.

Optimus was there in a sparkbeat, grabbing the gun as the mech made to strike the mech again, wrenching it from his grasp. "That is QUITE enough." He growled, the mech looking up at him startled as he glowered down furiously at him. "He is unable to do as you require!"

"But sir, they often fake…"

"No." He said firmly, frowning as he knelt down at the mech's side. He was offline, but alive. A faint spark pulse could be felt along the thin cables protruding from his neck. They were worn and wiry, not pulsing thick with energon like they should be. "This mech is unfit to be put to duty." His optics lifted, scanning the rest. Some had half-paused in their work, listening with interest, but all of them were paying attention, whether they showed it or not. "You will see that he is taken to his recharge berth and permitted to recuperate. No mech should be forced to work when he is this ill."

The mech just blinked with clear confusion. "Ill? But he's not ill, sir. No mech here is ill. They are fed regularly and given rest regularly."

Optimus frowned, and glanced over at the mech laying at his feet., then back to the other workers. It was very obvious that unless the guards and foreman were presented with proof, that would continue to be their excuse. "I require this mech's assistance in my investigation. I would like him brought to the quarters that I will be residing in during my stay here, along with a full repair kit so I may see to getting him fit for duty again."

"But…"

"You were asked to provide me with full co-operation, were you not?"

"Yes, but…"

"Then I require this mech in my investigation." He said firmly. "If you are concerned about workload, I will reimburse you with any lost revenue."

The guard frowned, staring down at the mech thoughtfully, before at last he nodded. "Very well, sir. I will inform the foreman."

"Good." Optimus Prime gently scooped the mech up in his arms, dismayed at how light the form was. He weighed almost as little as a sparkling, limbs limp and dangling as he carefully scooped him up and held him close upon their ascension to the surface. The entire ride up, he was silent.

The foreman met them at the top of the lift, and did NOT look happy. His optics shifted to the mech in Optimus' arms, lips curling with distaste. "Oh. It's THAT one." Optimus frowned, optics shifting slightly to study the mech, but saw nothing that might clue him in as to who it might be. The foreman must have understood his puzzlement, as he sighed. "He has been the center of more trouble than I care to remember. You want him as your guinea pig?" Optimus made no response, though his optics narrowed. "Fine. Take him. He's nearly useless now anyway, never was very good at mining. We stuck him down there to keep him out of trouble. He won't be a loss to our procedures."

"I assume you have arranged a room for me, then."

"Yes, sir. This way."

It was a simple room that he was led to, far too small for his height, cramped and narrow, and covered in a thin sheen of dust, but it was a room with a door and a berth. After politely thanking the foreman, Optimus locked the door and turned to examine the mech that he had lain on the berth.

He was clearly in derelict shape. His grey armor was faded and scratched, patch-job welds clearly visible running up and down his entire frame. It appeared that the mech had suffered multiple injuries that had been carelessly patched to keep him functioning, but little else. Multiple seams ran up and down his sides in places that were not the usual place to patch. His right foot appeared to be a replacement part, completely mismatched and unlike the other which was far wider and bell-shaped. There were multiple weld marks on the mech's chest in various places, scars that crisscrossed the chassis, including the panel covering his spark chamber. A fearful looking scar also crossed over the mech's face, nearly piercing the right optic, but clearly had only scratched the surface instead. His face was thin and worn, scratches and dirt marring what once had likely been a proud one. And it was unexpectedly familiar, Optimus realized as he lightly turned the mech's head to the side slightly, studying him. It was sad, seeing what had once likely been a proud and formidable warrior reduced to such a weakened state. Sighing, Optimus turned and opened the repair kit he had been given, along with the mech's control collar commands. It was a basic set of tools, nothing fancy but then he was not trained in medical repairs. He knew the basic field repairs, it was the mark of a good leader to know how to handle himself in all aspects of his command. But he had nowhere near Ratchet's expertise. Still, any repairs seemed like it would be better than none. First step, he knew, was to purge the mechs' systems of the affected energon. While it wouldn't repair the damaged systems, it would stop them from decaying further. He pulled out the rubber tubing and began to hook up a draining tube, as well as a hookup to a few of the spare cubes that he had brought with him. After a few minutes of work, he set the apparatus aside and carefully began to pry at the mech's plating to remove it from his chest. The best place to attach a direct feed when he had no powered apparatus was to hook it directly to the energon pump at the mech's very center. It took some work, as the panel had nearly been fused in place with grime and debris, not having been opened for some time. When finally he pulled the panel off, he was treated to a faint light pulsing from the mechs' inner chamber, where his spark pulsed weakly. It was a bit awkward, perhaps, looking into such a private place, but it had to be done. Optimus peered into the opening carefully, spotting the energon pump and began to work at hooking it up to the piping. It was tedious work, as he had to re-route one of the main cables temporarily, slice into it and hook up the piping. While he worked, his gaze drifted to study the mech's spark chamber.

At first, he was curious. The light spilling from the cracks in the chamber was unlike any he was used to. He had seen his share of Autobot sparks, varying shades of blue. He also had seen Decepticon sparks, varying shades of red. But this spark was so pale it was nearly colorless, yet at the fringes of the chamber it tinted to the most amazing golden color he had ever seen. But what was even more poignant, was the deep scarring clearly evident on every surface of the spark chamber and the surrounding walls. Optimus felt a tightening in his spark chamber as he stared down at the damage, pity and grief welling up inside him as he knew well what it indicated. While he, and others like him, had hoped that the prisoners would be treated fairly, he knew the reality of the situation was far from that. Not all guards were honorable, and not all prisoners were as subdued. This mech had clearly been the victim of violent forced spark-mergings. Optimus had no doubt that he would find similar damage if he were to inspect the mech's other intimate areas. However, that was not his purpose here, though it pained his spark. He quickly finished hooking up the tubes, and started the transfer.

A putrid yellow brown liquid began to seep slowly out of the mech's lines with each feeble pulse of his pump. And with each pump, purified fucha liquid steadily flowed into his lines. It was a slow process, simply gravity working to move the liquids, rather than any equipment, which gave him plenty of time to work on doing what he could for the hapless prisoner. He steadily got to work, scrubbing the dirt and grime away, doing what he could to clean him. The entire time, the mech remained silent and offline, only the occasional pulse of light from his exposed chest making it through a crack of his casing.

It wasn't until several hours later, when Optimus had at last sat back, tired and exhausted, that the mech's head moved slightly as he started to come to. Optimus lifted his head, pausing as he saw faint light flickering behind dim red optics as they came online. He made no move, simply sitting there and watching to see what the mech would do. For a long moment he did nothing other than lay there, then the optics shifted, squinting slightly as the mech glanced dimly around, obviously trying to determine where he was. When the mech's gaze lit upon Optimus sitting across from him on the floor watching, his gaze narrowed, and Optimus saw the rotors behind his optics working hard to focus on him. He was nearly blind, he realized with some revulsion. His optical relays were failing, if the flickers in the optics were anything to go by. Moving over to sit beside the mech, he peered at him cautiously. "Do you know who I am?" he asked quietly, deep voice rumbling loudly in the small room. However, though the mech's vision might have been failing, his hearing was not. His entire body stiffened as Optimus spoke, his head turning so that his optics were staring directly at him, rotors wide as they struggled to focus on the mech at his side. A slight frown tugged at the mech's facial plates, and Optimus knew he was trying to place the voice with no visual guide to go on. But whether it was years of isolation and hard labor that had dulled his senses, or perhaps just the simple result of being deprived of freedom, Optimus knew the signs of madness when he saw it. He had seen one too many mech affected by the war unable to cope afterwards. He knew the signs. This mech's sanity was teetering at the edge, if it had not yet gone completely over the brink. Not that he could blame him. After seeing the working conditions, Optimus found himself wondering if he would have fared any better. Seeing he was not about to get any response from the vacant stare of the prisoner, he sighed and leaned back against the bulkhead, fixing him with a watchful look. The only thing he had to do now was make sure the mech didn't rip the cables out prematurely before the toxic energon had been removed. But seeing how weak he was, he didn't feel there was any real danger of that happening. However, he couldn't afford to let himself go into recharge, and as the silence was awkward, he found himself speaking aloud to simply occupy the silence.

"I cannot tell you how horrified I am to see this place." Optimus said quietly, weaving his fingers together as he rested them on his knees, trying to find a comfortable position to sit while still facing the mech on the berth. There was not enough room for him to stretch out, but the berth was just far enough away from the wall that his knees couldn't rest comfortably. He studied the mech, who was still staring vaguely in his direction. "This is not the dream I had of peace." He sighed, rubbing his optics with his fingers. "This world is nearly as intolerable as the one which prompted the war in the first place. Filled with intolerance and hatred towards those who we think caused this mess, when in fact it is our own intolerance and hard-headedness that caused the situation. The measure of a mech is in how they treat those lower than them, and their prisoners. If that is so, then we have failed poorly at being Cybertron's beacon of hope. I can see the same things happening all over again, if we are not careful. The lower class being taken advantage of, the higher class reaping the benefits, and those stuck in the middle unable to escape their fate, simply based on the choices they made at one point in their lives." He sighed, optics dimming. "We both killed, on both sides. Yet here I sit speaking to you, never having been punished for my deeds, simply because I was on the winning side." He sighed, letting his hands drape back across his knees. "I begin to wonder what Primus might think if he were to watch what we have become. A civil war between our two factions over what? The way the classes were treated. A dispute that could have been fixed with negotiation, talks, peaceful ends rather than a war which lasted centuries. And after that war, we just find ourselves in the same trap which we entered, treating those we see as beneath us poorly. Only this time, it is not freedom, but lack thereof that screams of injustice." He sighed, optics dimming. "A poor leader I have turned out to be. The Matrix of Leadership claimed me fit, yet I feel I am a poor carrier for it's responsibilities. Perhaps it made a mistake initially, or perhaps I have changed more than I care to admit… either way, I feel I have failed in my duty." He frowned slightly. "Still… I have the chance to make amends, be it small. While I am here, I will not tolerate mistreatment of any of your people. On that you have my word."

The mech made no response, though his optics seemed to have dimmed during Optimus' monologue. Somewhere in the middle, he had drifted back into recharge, which was perhaps for the best. Optimus sighed, but checked the feeds. Seeing that the feed would take time still, he allowed himself to drift into a light recharge. He wasn't roused until he heard a light scraping sound. On lining his optics, he peered up at the berth to find the mech trying to sit up, the feed having tapered off and was empty at last, the cube on the floor filled to the brim with dirty yellow-brown energon. Quickly, Optimus rose to his feet and grabbed the mechs' shoulder gently, but to his dismay the mech reacted badly. The moment the hand touched him, the mech jumped visibly, cringing and shrinking in on himself, pulling away with a slight tremble of his frame. Quickly, Optimus withdrew his hand, frowning at the reaction. It was a classic response of one expecting brutal retribution built from years of harsh abuse and punishment. And it tugged painfully at his spark. He sighed softly. "I will not harm you." He said evenly, reaching forward and pulling a fresh cube of energon from his subspace, and lightly scooping the trembling mech's hand up, placing it on the cube as he pushed it into his grasp. "Drink. It will restore your energy." The mech's trembling eased slightly, but he didn't lift the cube. "It's quite all right." He smiled slightly. "It is pure. It will not make you ill like the foul garbage you are used to consuming." The mech frowned very slightly, but after that assertion lifted the cube and gave it a tentative sniff. Though Optimus was uncertain just how keen the mech's senses were after nearly a hundred vorns below ground in the putrid tunnels, he seemed satisfied and took a tentative sip. After the initial splash of surprise on his features, the mech quickly began to drink the energon deeply, like one starving and presented with water. When he had finished the first, Optimus provided a second, and a third. When at last the mech had finished the third cube, presented with another, a hand pushed it away. Smiling, Optimus placed it safely back in subspace. Now re-fueled, the mech seemed much more at ease. His head turned slightly as Optimus moved, listening more than watching him as he rose and stretched, joints creaking. Aware he was being observed, Optimus smiled down at the mech. "I am well aware of the irony. You needn't remind me." To his surprise, a flash of a smile tugged at the mech's lips. It was very faint, but he was certain he had seen it. "However, you my friend are perhaps a key to unraveling this mystery. If only I had something to go on." He bent down and picked the cube up, studying the substance with a frown. "This…. There has to be an answer in this." He sighed, and put it down, took a syringe and carefully extracted a sample and secured it in one of the tubes Ratchet had supplied him with. "I only wish I had some knowledge of these things." He sighed. "Irony at work once more. To think I once was a dock worker, not unlike the mechs here…"

The mech was silent, not that Optimus expected him to say much. He had taken time while conducting the energon transfer to do a diagnostic, and uncovered that the mech's vocalizer had been completely crushed beyond repair. Given the hints dropped earlier, he could only assume that this was one of the controlling measures of keeping them in line, after a rebellion or uprising. It meant that for now, Optimus had to speak for them both. "If only I knew a little more about what kind of pathogen this was… natural or otherwise…"

Without warning, the mech shifted, and in a surprising move, his hand tentatively reached out towards him. Puzzled, Optimus blinked for a moment, before he slowly placed the tube in the mech's grasp, optic ridge lifting in curiosity as he watched the mech carefully pull the tube closer, nearly so close to his face that it was touching his nose. Optics focused tightly, doing their best to affix on the tiny tube in front of him. In that moment, Optimus felt a tickle in the back of his processor, a familiar tickle. The way the mech stared intently into the tube, the way he hunched forward, attention riveted, it struck a chord in him. However, he could not place it precisely. Instead, he watched as the mech stared into the vial intently. After a long moment, the mech leaned back, for the first time an expression crossing his face: Interest. Holding the vial carefully, he turned it over in silent consideration as Optimus watched. Finally, the mech's head lifted and the vial was held back out. Optimus took it, curiously studying the mech as he placed the vial back into the box with the other equipment, but the mech made no attempt to communicate what had held his interest so much.

A loud sound jolted him out of his reverie, and startled the mech, as Optimus long-range communicator started jangling. Quickly reaching into his case, he pulled it out and answered the call. "Yes?"

"Optimus. Good. How are things going over there?" It was Ratchet, of course. "

"Fairly well." He agreed, studying the small screen of the device, seeing the medic hunched over his own. The communicators were small things, but handy in situations such as this, when they traveled beyond the range of normal com signals. "I have studied the mine, though found little of interest other than the fact the mechs working it are far more affected than those not. I took one of the workers and extracted the energon in his lines, and I am bringing back a sample for you."

"Excellent. And the mech?"

"He is here with me. It was not appropriate for him to continue working in his state, therefore I relieved him of duty and have given him fresh energon. He seems to be fairing better." He frowned slightly. "He is not entirely coherent, I believe. But he did show slight interest in the sample I collected from him."

"Really?" Ratchet perked up considerably. "What kind of interest?"

"He studied it for a while, that's all." Optimus shook his head slightly. "I'm not entirely sure just how aware he is of his situation. I get the impression of lucidity now and then, yet for the most part he seems unaware."

"That's not uncommon for someone in his situation." Ratchet said grimly. "Any mech forced to do manual labor for a hundred vorns is no doubt likely to follow such a path. As long as he doesn't give you trouble, you might see if there is any way you can bring him back with you to Iacon."

Optimus blinked. "Back with me? Why?"

"Having a live subject this deeply affected by the contamination might better give me an idea of what we're working with." He paused. "Optimus, is there any way you can determine who he is?"

"Unfortunately, none that I know." Optimus sighed softly. "His vocalizer was crushed, and all prisoners' communications systems were disabled. Visually, there is not much to set any of them apart. Why do you ask?"

"Well…" Ratchet frowned. "If he was interested in the sample you took, it means that he could be just the insight we need. If it's someone like Hook or Mixmaster, we might have a distinct advantage. Someone with a mind like that could be a great addition to our investigation. If there is any way you can bring him with you, I would urge you to try."

"I will see what I can do." Optimus promised. "Considering the reaction of the foreman when I took him out of the mine, I don't believe it will be a problem if I take him into my protective custody. I do still have some weight."

"Good. Well good luck. And Optimus? Travel safely. I realize this mech is still a prisoner, but you can never be careful."

Optimus frowned slightly, glancing over at the mech, who was staring blankly at the wall. He seemed about as helpless as anyone could be, though Optimus also knew from experience not to trust his optics on first sight. But still… the way the mech had cringed at being touched, the damage to his body… no, he had learned his place in the most harshest of ways, unfortunately. He wouldn't be trouble, Optimus knew instinctively. He smiled slightly at the mech. "No… sometimes a little faith goes a long way." He murmured to himself. The mech turned his head slightly, obviously listening. "You have my word. No matter what happens here, I will see that you are treated fairly. You are my responsibility now." Unsurprisingly the mech didn't reply, so Optimus merely settled into a more comfortable position and let himself drift into recharge.

He would have been quite content to wake and find it was time to go.

Unfortunately, that wasn't how things happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dichotomy of Good and Evil**

By: nightelfcrawler

_Author's Note: M/M quite obviously here, along with non-consensual relationships, and violence. Another story I've had sitting around for a while I figured I would publish._

**Chapter Two**

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He woke slowly, feeling strange. His entire body felt warm, and a strange tingling pulse was itching in places it shouldn't have. This was followed by a slight feather-light touch in a place he KNEW it shouldn't be. Optics onlining with a snap, he stiffened when he realized the mech was kneeling in front of him, straddling his legs, fingers lightly stroking at the codpiece covering his lower portion, which was unfortunately pressured quite tight in automatic reaction to the gentle stroking. The mech didn't look up as he on-lined, but continued lightly running his fingers along the dark armor, sliding between the crevasses to find the bundles of wires connecting to his legs. Instantly, Optimus stiffened. It wasn't that the attention was unpleasant, quite the opposite. But it WAS unexpected, and undesired. The mech paused, head lifting, dim optics lifting to meet his, with a questioning look on his facial features. "What are you doing?" Optimus said, voice low and shaking ever so slightly. The mech just stared back at him, though his head did tilt slightly, almost miniscule. His nimble fingers slid through another chink in his armor, and Optimus gasped in surprise as pleasurable sensations flowed through his processor in one swell of emotion. Despite his hesitations, he couldn't deny that the touches were something that he had not experienced in vorns. He found himself quickly heating up, despite his intentions. Without warning, he snatched the mech's hand and yanked them free of his chassis, pinning him to the floor in one swift move. The mech's vents hissed slightly with surprised intake, optics widening as he was shoved to the ground disgracefully, however he froze, no longer pursuing his actions. Optimus remained over him, glaring down angrily. "I thought I could trust you not to do anything stupid." He said in a low voice, heavy with disapproval. "Perhaps I should not have given in to pity." The mech stared up at him, optics narrowing slightly, but not with anger, but confusion. That gave him pause. What had this been if it were no ploy?

A sudden knock on the door startled them both. Optimus lifted his head sharply, staring at the door. After a moment, he slowly got up off the mech. "Stay there." He said firmly. Rising, he walked to the door and opened it, only to find Blackforge standing there. "Hello, sir." He said cordially. "I'm here to inform you that we're due to depart in an orn, if you're planning to join us. Have you uncovered what you need?"

Optimus frowned, staring at Blackforge with a scrutinizing look. "Thank you." He said finally. "I would like to return with this next trip. I'm uncertain if I've found what I need, but there is little more I can learn here. I will however be returning with a guest."

"A guest sir?" Blackforge asked, blinking, then his optics roamed down to the mech hunched against the wall, having pulled himself halfway up. "Oh I see. You have found yourself a toy." Optimus' gaze sharpened, though the mech didn't notice, staring down at the mech with a look of amusement. "0442, eh? You picked a good one, if that's what you want, sir."

"I beg your pardon." Optimus said slowly, voice quite dangerous, aware that clearly he was at a loss that Blackforge had an intimate knowledge of.

The mech glanced up, and smirked at him. "He's one of the more submissive ones with skills." At Optimus' glare, he shifted. "My apologies sir. I meant no disrespect."

"That is quite all right." Optimus said calmly. "However, I would like an explanation." Blackforge stared at him puzzled. "To what do you refer?"

"You didn't choose him to be your berth mate?" The mech asked, curious. "That's what all the others have done. I hear he's got a wonderful knack for finding your most sensitive spots."

A reel of shock flooded through him. "You mean to tell me that you have whored this mech out?!" He demanded, fury creeping into his tone.

Blackforge frowned. "It was a service that he provided to any who needed it, in return for leniency in punishment. A good prisoner knows his place in matters such as these."

Optimus felt a burning rage swell up within him. In a flash of movement, the mech found himself face to face with the barrel of his own gun, torn from his grasp with an expert move by the Matrix-bearer. "You and your men will NOT take part in such activities again, or you will all be removed from duty. These mechs may be prisoners, but they are NOT slaves, nor concubines to curb your lust! Do I make myself clear?"

"Y…yes sir."

Disgusted, Optimus released him. "Prepare for us upon our return trip." He demanded firmly. "Inform me when you are ready."

"Yes, sir." The mech couldn't back away quick enough.

Sighing, Optimus glanced back at the prisoner. The mech was seated against the wall, arms looped around his knees, optics staring at the ground dispassionately. Now that he understood the situation, he found his spark aching for the mech. He slowly approached and came down into a crouch before the prisoner, noting that the mech tensed a little but did not move. "I am not angry with you." He said gently. "I understand you were only doing what you thought I desired, am I correct?" The mech's optics lifted slightly, though still didn't look directly at him. Optimus sighed, rubbing his optics tiredly. "I want you to understand something." He said softly. "I'm unsure if you are capable of such, but nonetheless, I must tell you that I would NEVER ask you to perform such tasks as you have become familiar with doing for the guards. While you are in my protection, you will not be asked to do anything, not be expected to do anything, or required to do anything unless you yourself agree to doing such things with your own free conscious will." He studied the mech, who remained impassively staring at nothing. His voice softened. "While I do not deny that I am like any mech, housing desires of such, I have not, nor will I, ever abuse anyone's free will in such a manner. I have had but one love in my life, and that love is what I hold dear to memories of such things. Do you understand?" To his surprise, the mech lifted his gaze, and met his azure optics with his own dim crimson ones. In that one brief moment, he saw clarity, understanding, and relief flash over the mech's features. Finally, after vorns of abuse, someone was treating him like a sentient being again. Optimus put a light hand on the mech's shoulder, and was pleased when he didn't pull away or cringe. "Good." He said quietly. "Now, I would like you to accompany me back to Iacon in order to get to the bottom of this contamination that is affecting you and your kinsmen. If you do not wish to come with me, I will not insist. The decision is yours." The mech held his gaze, awareness still dancing beneath the film of madness that had pulled aside for ever so brief a moment. And then, after a long sparkbeat, the mech slowly nodded once, a very slight dip of his head, but enough. Optimus smiled, and squeezed the mech's shoulder gently. "Good." He said softly, then grasped the mech's elbow and easily pulled him to his feet without resistance.

He packed his case with the samples he had taken, along with the empty energon cubes and then stepped outside. The mech followed him diligently, not having to be prompted to do so. Optimus wasn't sure whether this was a sign of loyalty, or simply programmed into him out of fear of punishment. Either way, he did not hesitate in following him obediently. At first, Optimus was concerned that he might not be able to see well enough to follow, but it seemed despite his lowered visual senses, he was still fully capable of detecting where his caretaker was at any time. Optimus imagined audio senses and radar helped guide him where his optics failed. Either way, they made their way to the barge without trouble and boarded under Blackforge's watchful gaze. Taking a seat along the shade of the command tower as he had before, the mech settled down beside him, taking a comfortable resting position. They were under way without much fuss, and left be. As they traveled, Optimus studied his companion carefully. At first, he had thought it impossible to uncover the mech's origins. The uniform grey that all prisoners wore, the lack of distinguishing characteristics, and the inability to communicate made things nearly impossible, yet there were things he could rule out to at least eliminate some options. The mech was smaller than most, but not significantly so. However, Optimus had noticed how light he was, which meant his armor was crafted out of a lightweight alloy, which unfortunately was also easily dented, if the pits crossing his chassis was anything to go by. His frame was slight, built to be nimble and was clearly not a front-line battle design. Which meant he was one of three options, a spy, a special tactics mech, or someone meant to act behind the battle lines. Knowing what he did of the Decepticons, he could rule out the third option. There were no scientists and medics among the Decepticons who did not fight equally with the rest in battle. Even Hook, the Decepticon medic, had been a formidable opponent on the battlefield, especially when merged with his unit to form Devastator. This left the first two options. There were many spies in the Decepticon ranks that he had never met or seen. Also were there many different special tactic divisions. However, the light armor tugged at him in a familiar way. No spy would be equipped with such light armor, for if caught in a firefight one shot would undo him easily. But there WAS one specific model of mechs that were designed with light armor for a purpose. Optimus' optics turned critically to study the mech at his side, sliding down the dented helm, studying the vents mounted in the shoulders, the scars of equal length on either side of his back, stretching from shoulder to waist, the holes patched over in his forearms, and the bell-like shape of the one foot that had not been replaced with a substitute replacement limb. No… he was fairly certain of it now, and as he considered his choice of mech in mind, all the pieces fell into place. The attempted uprisings, the reputation for being a troublemaker, the interest in the vial, and even the manipulative touches, intended as such or not. Optimus felt a tug in his spark as his optics slid over what had once been the pride of the Cybertronian skies, feared by all who knew him, hated by just as many. It was so uncharacteristic to see him crouched there, defeated and crushed, not a shred of confidence or pride left in his body, every bit beaten out of him over the years of being forced to work in dark enclosed spaces, no glimpse of the sky to give him hope, the chance of ever taking to the winds gone for good. Optimus Prime knew well the stories of the masters of the sky that had been grounded, and how they had slipped into madness and offlined themselves out of their striving desire to rejoin the stars. But even that had been denied to this mech. He was unsurprised that the mech had withdrawn so far that he was so unrecognizable. He too might have done the same, if only to save oneself from the agony of humiliation and virtual slavery.

The truth of the situation didn't fully sink in until they were at last back in Iacon, disembarking from the barge. He heard a low cry from behind them, and paused to glance back. One of the mechs unloading the crates had paused, staring their way with wide optics. Optimus noticed the numbers stamped on his chest: 0443. Crimson optics met azure as the mech turned to stare at him, and in that moment Optimus saw gratitude flash over his features moments before Blackforge berated the mech for pausing in his duties, sending him scurrying back to work. Optimus glanced down at his companion, only to see the mech standing obediently, optics lowered at the ground, expression blank. He showed no sign of recognition, despite the fact the other mech had known very well who he was. It only further confirmed his suspicions, however. In the brief moment they had shared gazes, Optimus knew that he had just proved his intentions, and gained support, whatever that might give him. It might seem insignificant now, but he felt that it might be handy later. Either way, he felt good about his decision.

They made their way through Iacon's docks, back into the city. It was still early, fortunate as they were not bothered as they moved through the streets. Sending a brief communicate to Ratchet, he was given a ping of response, from a rather irritated medic who had been asleep. Nonetheless, he was waiting for them upon their arrival, already having prepared a room. He glanced up as they entered, giving the grey mech a scrutinizing gaze before nodding to Optimus. "Welcome back." He said accepting the case as Optimus handed it over. "Good. Hopefully this will help us find some answers. Were you able to get any from him?" He nodded to the prisoner, scanning him briefly with his optics. "Not much, is he."

"No." Optimus said, sighing slightly as he gently led the mech to a berth and allowed him to sit. "But I think we may have lucked out more than I thought."

"You've identified him?"

"I believe so." He said quietly, frowning thoughtfully. "But I would take your medical opinion before I make my final judgment."

"Of course. I will run some scans." Ratchet agreed, pushing the mech down onto the berth. Surprisingly, the mech did not protest, and did as requested, laying still, optics staring vacantly up at the ceiling. The medic started the bio scan, pushing a button on the berth then turning to the console where Optimus joined him. The diagnostics began to pop up, most of them in red, which he knew instinctively to be a bad sign. Ratchet grimaced. "Primus." He said solemnly. "He's in worse shape than I thought."

"How bad is it?"

"Most of his systems have been compromised by the contaminant." The medic said grimly. "Half his pumps have shut down, the ones that haven't are working double-time. Fortunate for him his mass has been significantly reduced, half his piping and wiring has been corroded, energon re-routed by his self-repair systems. Significant scarring internally and externally, not all from the contaminant as you can surmise. Violent damage caused most of these breaks, repaired since then albeit rather poorly. It kept him functioning, but likely constantly causes him pain." His gaze darkened. "Significant damage to his interface systems, and severe damage to both spark and spark chamber." Optimus winced, but nodded. "Several viruses in his system, not unexpected and easily purged, however the most serious damage that I see is to his central processor."

Optimus felt his spark clench. "What kind of damage?"

"Well…" Ratchet frowned, pulling up the diagnostics. "Severe corrosion of nearly every part of his processor. The contaminant has seeped into every fiber, eating it's way through his own mind. There are parts that have not been affected yet, some parts of the reasoning and logic circuits, a small patch of his personal experiences, and a section of his lower cortex where we store interests. But I'm afraid it's all beyond my ability to fix. Processor pathways are not something that can be repaired without replacing the whole processor itself. I can replace body parts to make him fully functioning, rebuild his wiring and armor, but I cannot mend his mind if it's this badly damaged."

"Will his self-repair systems be able to fix the damage?"

"Some of it." Ratchet agreed, nodding slightly. "Once I've purged his infected systems then his self-repair can start functioning normally. It already seems to have repaired some pathways, but I cannot give you a full diagnostic as to what may or may not be repaired." He glanced up at him. "He very well may never recover fully."

"A pity." Optimus murmured, glancing back at the grey mech, watching as his optics scanned the ceiling distractedly. "To lose one such as he is a great loss to us all."

Ratchet frowned slightly, and glanced over at the mech then back to him questioningly. "In what way? From my analysis, his design indicates that he's clearly one of three mechs I personally have no desire to see again."

Optimus sighed, and glanced over at him tiredly. "The war is over, Ratchet." He said quietly. "And I for one have seen more atrocities in that mine to last a lifetime. These mechs have paid for their crimes, and then some. No sentient deserves to be stripped of their very essence, their personality and privacy in the manner that he has been." His gaze hardened. "And given the choice, either of those three would be a great asset if convinced to assist us."

Ratchet frowned. "I can understand the unique abilities of a certain black seeker, but the other two? One had more doubts than certainties and could never make up his mind, the other made you want to LOSE your mind."

Optimus smiled slightly, gaze turning sad as he watched the mech laying on the berth study a particle of dust float nearby his optics. "Ratchet, you may not be intimately aware of your former enemy as I am. I assure you, there is far more value here than you might believe."

"How can having the former Decepticon Second in Command here in my med-bay be of value? Anything he knew is worthless by now, and I have no desire to hear anything he has to say. I'll do what I can to extract information, and I'll repair him if you insist, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Starscream was a very skilled scientist before the war."

The medic blinked, pausing. "Really? I hadn't heard that."

"You should really speak with Skyfire more. He has many interesting tales to share, many which are very fond to him." Optimus mused. "I spoke with him in length after we admitted him to our faction. I was impressed with what he had to share. Much of it had no value to our battle at the time, but I think that such information might be very critical to us now at this moment." He turned, studying the mech thoughtfully. "If we can restore his mind, Starscream might very well be able to solve this mystery for us."

The medic looked doubtful. "I can't promise anything, Optimus. His circuits are so scrambled at this point, I'm not sure he's even aware fully of where he is."

They were both silent, watching the mech as he lay there, dim optics roaming the ceiling boredly. "Of that, I agree." He said quietly. "But I still would like you to do your best."

"I will, Optimus."

"Good. Please inform me when there is anything to report. If he gives you any trouble, I want to hear about it."

"Oh don't worry." Ratchet smirked almost happily. "He won't be trouble. I'll ensure that."

Optimus frowned, but didn't push him. After all, he had faith in the medic's ability and judgment. Without another word, he left Ratchet to his work, and departed back to his home tower. Exhausted and troubled, he allowed himself to indulge in some cubes of energon before he retreated to his berth and allowed himself to slip into a fitful recharge. The next few days were spent trying to make heads or tails of the data. Unfortunately, as he was not a scientist, he only could stare at the screens blankly for orns, trying to unravel the mysteries of the analysis that had come from Starscream's tanks. The liquid was a combination of decomposed metal and piping, energon and oil from his systems. There was no obvious sign of any contaminant, no sign of any virus nor anything that might explain what had sickened the mechs.

It truly was a mystery. And unfortunately, Optimus could not fathom a single glance into the complicated situation.

It took Ratchet three days to finish his work. He called to announce that he was finished, and Optimus wasted no time in returning to the hospital. The change was an absolute stark contrast the moment he walked in. Ratchet had, of course, outdone himself. Sitting upright on the berth with shining new armor, was a far more familiar sight. Optimus paused, as his gaze swept over a repaired and repainted Starscream who looked as if he had never set one foot outside of the clean sterile environment of the clinic. Ratchet smiled proudly and nodded lightly as he entered. "As you can see, I had to make some minor alterations." He explained as the Matrix-bearer strode into the room. "Given the fact we are no longer at war, I thought it was only appropriate that I alter his physique a little, and given my schematics on Seekers are archaic, I had to be a little creative."

Optimus studied his work, impressed. Starscream still clearly resembled himself, the medic had seen to that by providing him with the proper paint job, however there were significant changes. The wings that had once stood out at either side had been replaced, but they were slimmer and lay flat down his back, only jutting from his side very slightly near his waist. His once bell-shaped thrustered feet had been altered, likely as the other thruster had been missing entirely. Ratchet had replicated the parts from the surviving limb, reconstructed the feet and mounted thrusters on the back of each foot, an external mount, though he had made it appear one whole unit, he could see the well-hidden seams. Optics shone brightly at him as he entered, red depths focusing easily on him the moment he made contact. There was a brief frown that crossed over his facial features, as if he were trying to place recognition to the face before him, trying to reach something beyond his grasp. Optimus smiled gently, though his mask hid the action. "How is he?"

"Physically, repaired." Ratchet gestured easily to him. "As you can see. Psychologically, I can't hazard a guess. He's been co-operative, amiable actually. He has curiosity, almost sparkling-like. He seems fascinated with everything, shows only brief glimpses of slight recognition of who I am and where he is. There are times when he looks at me, and I swear he's calculating a way to shoot me in the back, and other times when I think he must see someone else, perhaps a ghost from his past." He shook his head slightly. "Processor damage isn't repairable with medical treatment. It will just take time. You'll have to work with him, see if you can direct his focus. If he uses a pathway more frequently, his repair systems will likely work to fix it first. It might repair the damage if he puts those pathways to frequent use. I did my best to download data from his processor, but it's badly corrupted. I was able to uncover a few glimpses here and there, nothing particularly… pleasant." His optics softened, and in that moment Optimus realized that the medic was finally seeing past the warrior whom they had fought against so long ago, and was seeing a simple mech. "I understand why you took him here, Optimus." He said softly. "I had no idea things were that bad."

"That was the point." He said quietly. "The Senate made sure no one knew the truth. They hid it behind trade embargos, isolation and the brand of 'prisoner of war'. They didn't want the rest of us knowing the truth… that we had taken our dirt and brushed it under the carpet, as the human saying goes."

"Crude, but apt." Ratchet sighed. "That is exactly what we've done isn't it?" He glanced over at Starscream, watching as the mech's curious optics roamed about the med bay, taking in every detail and color with a look of wonder, as if he was seeing everything for the first time. "Primus, this sickens me." He crossed his arms, scowling. "Despite what I know about him, it still sickens me."

Optimus sighed, rubbing his optics tiredly. "Yet, this is what we must deal with, the repercussions of our actions. Yet, I know if the tables had been turned and the Decepticons had won, things would likely be different, but perhaps no worse or better."

"Hm, perhaps." Ratchet agreed somberly. "Now, I've not restored weaponry, obviously, and I've disabled his thrusters more out of his own safety than anything. Unfortunately, his state of mind cannot be trusted. He might try flying and forget how, we cannot be sure. Therefore, do try to keep him grounded until you determine if he is capable, I've programmed the code into his control collar so you can give the ability back to him at your leisure."

"Must he wear it?" Optimus frowned.

"Like it or not, he IS still a prisoner." Ratchet reminded him. "Though no one would know at first glance anymore, given most are programmed to think featureless grey mechs equal prisoner." He glanced at him. "Besides, for all we know his self-repair might fix the damage, and one day you wake up with a rifle to your neck and a few sharp words for your trouble before he offlines you."

"Good point."

"My recommendation, work with him, see where you can get." Ratchet eyed him. "And Optimus… I would highly recommend that you DON'T contact Skyfire and let him know who your guest is. I know their friendship is long over, but it ran deep. To know he's here with you, I can't be sure it might compromise his assistance in this investigation."

"Thank you Ratchet." Optimus nodded solemnly. "I don't have to remind you it's best if you speak of this to no one?"

"Hah." He snorted. "I would lose my job, Prime or no Prime. Don't worry, Optimus. Just don't turn your back on him. He IS still a Decepticon, and one of the most treacherous of them all."

"I know. Thank you." Optimus turned to face the seeker, and studied him. Starscream's expression was vacant again, optics unfocused as if he were thinking and not truly connected to what was going on around him. As Optimus approached, the crimson optics lifted and focused on him, and he saw brief recognition flash across his face again before the emotion faded, washed over as whatever thoughts of clarity faded, leaving a blank mask in place. It was almost as if he could not directly focus on a single moment, but kept bouncing around from one to another. "Come on." Optimus directed, lightly taking the mech's elbow. To his surprise, the order was obeyed without question. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, but his spark ached at how quickly the prisoner hastened to obey orders. The entire way back to his quarters was silent, no interference from anyone they passed, no conversation from his companion. When at last they reached his home, Optimus led Starscream inside and studied the mech as he stood calmly behind him.

"My home is your home for now." He said calmly, discreetly entering a code into the door. He didn't fear of the mech walking off, the control collar kept him close to his 'master' at all times, like it or not. "Feel free to relax as you wish. I will make up the spare room for you to use as your own, and you may consume any energon you wish at any time. I have a few data pads you might find interesting, so feel free to enjoy those as well. I would like you to remain here when I have business. I fear others might not understand your presence, and I would like to keep things as uncomplicated as possible while you recover." He glanced back at the mech, seeing the same blank expression painted on his features. "If you even comprehend me." He murmured softer, gaze soft. Shaking his head, he walked over to his worktable and sat down, pulling up the communications he had received and catching up on his work. Now and then he would glance up to ensure that Starscream was faring well. The mech had remained standing in place for a while, but after a time, he moved on his own and slowly strode over to the windows overlooking the city, stopping and staring out across the cityscape. The tower they were in was one of the highest in the city, thus granting an uninterrupted view of everything all around them. Optimus often had stood there himself, lost in thought as he surveyed the scenery. He understood the peace it brought to a troubled mind. He smiled slightly, and returned to his messages, letting the seeker be. He finished his work in peace, and finally when he was done, sat back tiredly rubbing his optics and glancing over to the windows. Starscream hadn't moved, though from this angle Optimus could see half of his face in profile. He was smiling, ever so slightly, optics dimmed and distant, a content look on his face. Rising, Optimus slowly approached the mech, and was pleased to find he didn't flinch or pull away as he took his place next to him, staring out at the city in silence with him. Together, they stared in tandem, enjoying the sight in silence. Optimus couldn't help but dim his optics, lost in thought. He had done something good, in rescuing the Decepticon from imprisonment, but what now? Where did this leave them? The Decepticons were still prisoners, given no rights. He himself had little hold over the council, despite his past experience, and that troubled him. Even if they came to a solution regarding this energon supply problem, what then? He had seen the disgusting life those mechs led, and it sat very uncomfortably with him. He frowned, troubled. Something had to be done to change this. He wasn't quite sure what he could do yet, but he did know that something had to be done. Sighing, he glanced at the seeker. "I am retiring to recharge. Please make yourself comfortable." There was no response, and Optimus sighed as he turned, leaving the mech there as he entered his private room.

He slept fitfully, troubled. When he woke, he found the seeker standing in the same place, though his optics were dim. It seemed he had fallen into recharge standing up straight. Not that Optimus could blame him, as the scenery must be soothing to one who had not flown, nor seen the sky in vorns.

Unfortunately, the progress was slow. While Starscream reacted to orders, requests or commands, sitting when he was directed, refueling when given energon, he showed no sign of conscious awareness, which troubled Optimus. There were brief moments now and then where he thought he saw a flash of recognition, a flash of understanding, a stretch of emotion… but it was just that, a flash, a glimpse. Optimus worked with him, giving him data pads to read, instructing him on what had happened since his imprisonment, but each time he did so, it was absorbed in silence, like a computer absorbing information, not an individual. Weeks passed, Ratchet continued his analysis and study, to no solution yet. Months, and there was no change. Optimus was a patient mech, or so he believed, however working with the seeker was trying his patience. Ratchet asked him at one point whether he would have preferred the arrogant loud Air Commander back, compared to this version of Starscream, and he had honestly nearly answered yes. As insufferable as he knew the 'old' Starscream had been, he would have relished some intelligent company.

"I'm sorry." Ratchet finally said, tossing his data pad on the table with a frustrated sigh, lifting his optics to watch Optimus across his cluttered desk. "I'm afraid there's no change in his pathways."

Optimus' gaze darkened. "None? Not even slight?"

"None." Ratchet said grimly. "I've triple checked every scan, done analysis under the most minute adjustments. Unfortunately, there has been no reparation of the neural pathways. They were just too badly damaged, the information is corrupted and beyond repair. The data IS still there… but there is no way he, or we, can get to it." He shook his head again, optics turning glum. "I'm afraid that what we've got is what we're stuck with. I don't see any way that Starscream will recover. He's unfortunately never going to regain his mind, experience, or personality quirks, as irritating as they may be. We could try downloading his memory banks and seeing if we can decrypt the information, but knowing Starscream's own paranoia and skill, he's probably encoded them so securely that there's little chance we could hack the system." He shook his head. "I'm sorry Optimus. Essentially he's a walking useless computer."

Optimus sighed, casting his gaze over at the seeker sitting on the table. His gaze was vacant as usual, sitting patiently where he'd been told to sit. "Such a waste." He murmured softly. "And he is possibly the only one who can solve this energon problem. Sitting right here in front of us, but unable to teach us what he knows."

"I know." Ratchet said darkly. "It's frustrating. But while I would like to think more time might help, I just don't think that's possible. He's suffered too much neural damage."

Optimus gaze lowered as he rubbed his optics tiredly. "Thank you, Ratchet." He finally spoke quietly. "At least we have given him a better life than he had. Perhaps Primus meant for us to find him, even if we could not help him as we wished."

Ratchet frowned at that, his optics snapping up slightly. "Hmm…" He muttered thoughtfully stroking his chin slowly, tracing a silver scar on his jaw. "Have you considered other options, Optimus, other than directly speaking with Starscream himself?"

"I have tried directly linking him to the computer console and imputing data directly, trying to stimulate his neural cortex."

"I did not mean traditional methods."

Optimus blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Ratchet sighed, leaning forward on the desk, linking his fingers together as he stared at Optimus with a soothing look that he typically only reserved when speaking to his patients. "Perhaps we are going about this the wrong way. It is proven to us that physically there is nothing that can be done to repair the damage to his processor. But there are other places that knowledge can be stored."

Optimus frowned. "I'm not sure what you're…"

Ratchet groaned, pushing his face into his hand. "Look. For all your experience and knowledge, Orion, there are SOME things you are still naive about."

Optimus felt his vents kick in to cool his heating systems as he eyed Ratchet uncertainly. The chief medic rarely used his personal name. He was one of the few who did know it, one of the few he considered friend enough to confide in. "Very well, enlighten me."

"The spark can hold memories when the mind cannot. While we cannot be sure what it might hold, if what you say is true and science was one of Starscream's passions, there might be something you can gleam from within. Being locked up in that pit-spawned mine was no picnic, however, if I know him, he would have done ANYTHING to distract himself, especially considering he had been stripped of his wings. Such actions have driven fliers mad, Seekers more frequently. Starscream had a reputation for being a coward and idiot, but I don't think that was truly who he was. I think it was an act. We know he was smart, my thought is that he was smart enough to know how to play a ruse flawlessly. From what you tell me of Skyfire's stories and investigating his own work from the past, I am fairly certain of these deductions. Therefore, it is my thought that there might be a chance some kind of information might be stored in his spark, as he would have made this important to him, to keep him sane as long as possible."

"And what if he went mad before he discovered anything wrong?" Optimus asked softly.

"There is that possibility. But unless we try, we might not know."

Optimus frowned thoughtfully. "What exactly are you suggesting? A spark-merging?"

"It is the only way to gather information from a spark." The medic said simply. "Seeing that he is marginally aware of any of us, it would likely not be as intense of an experience. It's worth a shot."

"I er… I don't think it's quite appropriate…"

"Oh please." Ratchet snorted. "You haven't been laid since Elita died." He said sharply. "And that was BEFORE the war. How long has it been exactly? A million and a half earth years?"

"Er… just about."

"You're due. Besides." The medic smirked. "It is part of a healthy libido to interface now and then. But if you prefer I CAN sedate you so that you do not feel anything other than the memories from his spark. But I would highly recommend against it. "

"It wouldn't be right. He is unable to make any decisions. It would be like…"

"No, it wouldn't." Ratchet said firmly. "I have done operations like these before, though discreetly. It is done only in extreme circumstances where the patient's mind is affected and we need vital information. It is completely safe, is not considered invasive or intimate, and can be done through cable connections instead of direct contact. You needn't fear about anything inappropriate."

Optimus relaxed a little. "I see. Thank you for the clarification. I will agree to this procedure then, if it might help us gather some critical information."

Ratchet nodded and rose. "Good. I can set it up now." He patted the mech's shoulder, pausing just long enough to smirk down at him. "You still need to get laid, by the way."

Optimus' vents kicked on again, much to his embarrassment.


	3. Chapter 3

**Dichotomy of Good and Evil**

By: nightelfcrawler

_Author's Note: M/M quite obviously here, along with non-consensual relationships, and violence. Another story I've had sitting around for a while I figured I would publish._

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**Chapter Three**

It didn't take long, as Ratchet had promised. He had Optimus lay on a table, put Starscream on an adjacent one, and then asked him to bare his spark. Though he was used to having the medic work on him, he had sustained many injuries requiring him to bare his spark before, it still felt awkward. He carefully opened the double plating over his chest compartment, the Matrix' light spilling brightly out as he pulled the doors aside. Ratchet paused briefly, optics studying the artifact with the usual reverence and respect, before he reached down and carefully connected a few cables to the fragile connections around his spark chamber. Then, he turned to Starscream and repeated the procedure. "Interesting." Was the curious comment once he straightened up. "I've never seen a spark that color before."

"You haven't?" Optimus asked, curious. "I thought it was unusual, but not knowing the biology of sparks I simply assumed nothing of it."

"Hm." Ratchet mused. "When I was repairing him, I never studied his spark with my bare optics, I was always wearing my infrared so I could see the damage to the spark itself. But I assumed like most Decepticons his spark would be red. Curious that it is not. I've seen a few oddities in my time, but not this. Well, it doesn't seem to have caused him any discomfort, assuming that he has had this abnormality all his life."

"It couldn't be an indication of a virus or something dangerous, do you think?"

"No." Ratchet said firmly, shaking his head. "I would have detected that. There is nothing WRONG with his spark, other than it's coloration. It's as healthy as one might expect from a mech who's lived in his environment, healthier than I'd thought it would be, to be frank. It could have been caused by some kind of mutation, exposure to radiation, strong chemicals, any number of things. No, you needn't worry Optimus. You won't be at any risk." The medic turned back to him. "Now, I'm going to have you shut down every system other than your processor, just so that you can fully immerse yourself in what you see. Unlike a spark-merge during intimacy, this will be different. You may feel his emotions, but they will be his and not your own. Images, flashes, glimpses, it may be jumbled and you might not be able to make any sense of it, especially given his mental condition. Still, any information even a glimpse might be helpful. If it becomes too much, I will be monitoring on the console. Your spark signature is marked, and I can bring you out if I notice any unnatural spikes. You won't be able to terminate contact yourself, so if you do wish to do so, online your systems and tell me." Optimus nodded. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Ratchet nodded. "Good luck." And as he turned his back, Optimus shut down his systems one at a time so he was prepared. At first, it was a little strange, since his processor was aware something was going to happen, his spark jittery as it anticipated something to happen, but his senses were all dead and blind. He had no sense of touch or sound, everything black and dark around him as he waited. It was calming, in a sense, but unnerving at the same end.

Then, everything shifted.

He wasn't quite prepared for the sudden intensity of the connection. One moment he was sitting in calm darkness, the next suddenly light flooded all around him, brilliant and blinding from all directions. Clouds sped by his vision, light and fluffy condensation that dampened his nosecone, tickled his wings, the wind howling deafeningly in his audios, muted as not to completely deaden his senses, the feeling of being weightless, free, unrestricted. It took him a moment to realize where he was, his spark jumping in wonder as he felt the intensity of emotions flooding around him like rain. Happiness, freedom, LIFE. That was what flying was. There was NOTHING better, not anything in the entire existence. Flight WAS heaven. Dizzyingly, the clouds spun away, the ground appearing beneath him rapidly approaching at an alarming pace, but there was no panic, no fear, no alarm. He lazily watched as the ground grew closer, spreading in front of him and filling his whole sensor array, then he shifted directions again, gravity pulling heavily on his weightless body like intense pressure from the sea crushing him as he pulled vertically alongside the ground, skimming inches away from the surface, dust and debris roaring from behind him as engines blasted the grit away from the earth. And then, he was twisting skywards again, tight spirals that never seemed enough. He wanted MORE, more!

Optimus shuddered, though not physically, as he pulled away from the experience, and managed to separate the intense feelings as he realized they were not his own. They were so wondrous, his head would have been spinning had he not been in near stasis mode. Was this what Starscream felt every time he flew? It was no wonder the Seekers were known to go mad without the sky, if it was such a profound part of their lives. He couldn't help but marvel at the intensity of the emotions. He had NEVER felt anything so powerful.

Just as quick, the lighthearted image faded away, drifting beyond his grasp as darkness closed in. Voices, some familiar and close, others not, drifted in and out of his awareness, like someone lost in a fog. Optimus got the immediate impression of two people close and dear, familiar faces of Skywarp and Thundercracker, laughing and leaning in close, vanishing like smoke when they got in too far. And then, cold laughter, cruel and dangerous as Megatron's head loomed overhead, growing massively in size and leering down at him with a voracious appetite in his optics, vanishing like smoke as a scream pierced the fog.

Optimus shook his head. This was so unlike the flight image. This was darkness, confusion, fear…. He could feel it weaving all around, choking him. He felt lost, confused, and had no idea where to go. He had the sensation that if he let this vision sweep him up, he would be lost forever in it. But then, without warning, the fog cleared and brushed aside, light brightening the darkness once more as another image took solidity. A large, rather an enormous chamber loomed before him, filled to the brim with light. A sense of awe, wonder and amazement flowed through him, though he did not know why as he tilted his head upwards, staring at the bright golden light hovering above him like a sun. It was calming, reassuring, like a creator might feel to a sparkling…

Optimus blinked and pulled back again, and the scene warped slightly. He found himself standing behind a small mech, a youngling barely out of sparklinghood, winglets tiny and fragile on his back, and horribly mangled. The sparkling was dented, energon dribbling from his lips, optics dim and he was holding his side to keep vital fluids from spilling out. With a heart-wrenching realization, Optimus knew this was a glimpse of Starscream's past. The small mech looked frightened, lost and confused, but the familiarity of those bright red optics staring curiously upwards past the fear left no doubt in his mind. As he watched, the young Starscream stepped forward, lips moving wordlessly, voice too soft to be heard as he probably spoke to himself. Optimus could see the curiosity on his face as he reached a hand upwards to the light, pulling back as a small tendril of energy swept slowly down towards him. It passed through his hand, and he jerked back, but no pain showed on his face, rather surprise. "Who…. What are you?" Came the question, soft and innocent. But there was no audible response…. Instead, an almost serene smile crossed over the younglings' face. "Oh…." Was the reverent answer. "Yes… Yes I understand." And the light intensified to a blinding quality, forcing Optimus to raise a hand he did not have to try and block his optics.

Suddenly, it was dim again, and silent. He blinked, focusing his gaze, and saw the same chamber, the light dimmer but still there… and sitting against the wall, arms draped lazily over his knees, optics dark, was an adult Starscream, apparently recharging with a bored expression on his face.

Nothing changed. Optimus frowned as the moments passed, and yet the scene did not shift. He glanced up at the light hovering above, pulsing slowly in an almost lazy rhythm, dimmer than it had been previously, and almost behaving like a spark in recharge. Curious, he lifted a hand up towards it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The sudden words startled him, and Optimus pulled his hand quickly away, optics snapping back down toward the only other mech present, who happened to be watching him with a curious, and slightly puzzled frown. "But go right ahead, Autobot, it's your funeral."

"Starscream?" Optimus asked, hesitantly.

A wry smirk crossed over the mechs' lips and he lifted an optic ridge. "Optimus Prime?"

Surprised, Optimus slowly moved forward, approaching the mech, whose optics followed him with keen interest. "But this should not be possible…. We should not be conversing in this manner, if I understand correctly."

The Seeker just eyed him boredly. "If you say so." He stuck his fist under his chin and turned his head away, staring boredly into the light of the spark. "Then go away. I didn't ask for company."

"Company…?" Optimus asked, puzzled. "But isn't this a memory?"

Starscream glanced over at him sharply. "What the frag are you on about? And why are YOU here in the first place anyway?" A suspicious frown crossed his facial plates. "You threw us in that fragging pit-spawned hell hole and left us to rust. Why the frag would my consciousness create you here?"

"Your consciousness?"

"Oh please. I'm not THAT stupid." Was the dry response. "I've spoken with Skywarp, Thundercracker AND Skyfire since my stay began here, and none of them were half as stupid as you, but then I wasn't really intending to have a visit from the Autobot commander." He frowned slightly. "Why DID I create you?"

Optimus blinked, confused. He was almost speaking as if… awareness hit him. "You did not create me out of your subconscious, Starscream." He said at last. "I am here in an attempt to gather information. I did not expect to be able to converse with you."

"Hah." Was the dry response. "Nice one." The seeker's optics were distant and bored, obviously not believing him.

"It is the truth." Optimus said quietly. "Are you aware of what goes on out of this refuge?" He frowned glancing up at the glowing light. "Point of fact being, where is this refuge? Is that a representation of your spark?"

"Mine?" Starscream laughed out loud, eyeing him with an amused smirk. "Out of ALL the mechs, I would have thought YOU would recognize Primus when you saw him."

Optimus blinked. And blinked again. "Primus?" he asked, rather unintelligently.

"Yes, Autobot." drawled Starscream, looking far more amused than Optimus thought was appropriate. "Primus. Not what you expected? Big loud scary spark with a booming voice and awesome powers perhaps? Go ahead, wake him up if you want that."

Optimus stared up at the spark, baffled. "I don't understand. Primus is not a physical corporeal being, but a manifestation of ourselves."

Starscream actually threw his head back and laughed. "Oh you ARE too much, Optimus Prime. YOU do not know a thing about Primus, you who holds that cursed relic in your chassis?"

Optimus frowned. "And I take it you know more than I on this subject?"

"Of course." The Seeker said unabashed.

"Would you care to enlighten me then as to what I am clearly missing?"

Starscream actually grinned, a confidant and triumphant grin. "I would be delighted. DO have a seat."

Knowing he was being mocked, Optimus found little other choice than to do as he was asked and sit down beside the seeker, wondering just how much he would have to endure of this smug arrogant attitude. Yet, curiosity tugged at him. He wanted to know what Starscream thought he knew.

"I will forgo the history lesson, given that I am fairly sure you know of the first Great War and the pre-history as much as I would, given there is not much known about those events." Starscream began, his tone slipping into a slightly condescending lecture, as if he were speaking to someone far beneath him. Optimus humored him by remaining silent. "Therefore, let me be the first to tell you that while Primus may indeed be a very old and very powerful mech, he is by no means omniscient, and therefore not a 'god' as many believe." Optimus almost spoke up. Almost. However, the side-long look that Starscream gave him made him think twice. Though his attitude was insufferable, Optimus had to admit that the mech DID know things, and never made claims that he couldn't support. He was a scientist, after all, and not one to believe in superstitious nonsense. This didn't mean that he was correct of course, but it did mean he obviously had evidence to back his claim, which Optimus was wiling to hear. Therefore, he kept silent. As if approving his choice, Starscream gave a small nod and moved on with his tale. "Many scholars and theologists believe of course that he is some supreme being with all-seeing knowledge, but I can tell you from personal experience, that he is nothing like that at all. Old, powerful, yes. Omniscient, hardly. You might wonder how I know this? Well, as you surmised, this place is an accurate representation of Primus' very own spark chamber, and is in fact a real-time representation of it, fabricated in my consciousness."

"How do you know?"

Starscream smirked, fixing him with an amused look. "Because when I was young, I stumbled upon it by accident."

Optimus blinked, realization striking him. "That image I saw before arriving here with you." Starscream blinked, momentarily seeming surprised, so he clarified. "I believe I saw you, as a youngling. The spark was brighter, and you were…. injured."

"Ah." Was the short response, optics narrowing slightly. "Well then yes, that is accurate. I stumbled upon his refuge without knowing what it was, woke him, and he was NOT happy, I can tell you." His optic ridge twitched slightly. "Luckily, he was sympathetic to my situation and assisted me. I would not have been able to find my way back to the surface if he had not."

Optimus was not the most observant mechs at times, however he knew well how to read between the lines, and knew exactly what Starscream was alluding to. "You were injured." He said quietly. "How?"

Starscream's face suddenly slid into a mask of indifference, cold calculating optics stared blankly ahead, and Optimus had the distinct impression that he had just asked something far too personal. Yet, the seeker unexpectedly responded without hesitation at the question. "Not all of us were the pride of our creators, Prime." Was the cold response. "I was a disappointment. My creators saw fit to rid themselves of the trouble they did not wish to deal with. I was fortunate that I did not terminate on impact. I had never flown before, but I managed to figure it out enough to slow my fall so it was not terminal when they threw me off the Great Iacon Chasm."

Optimus felt his spark clench with repulsion. "Your creators tried to offline you?!"

"Not ALL of us had cushy comfortable lives, Prime." Was the cold response, crimson hellfire optics boring into him intently. "I survived. That is all that matters."

Optimus frowned. "But you were unable to fly back out again?"

"Correct." Starscream grimaced. "I had never flown before, my wings were not yet developed and my thrusters had never been used. But I managed to survive, barely. I was too damaged to even think about trying to fly back out, and I was resigned to wander the subterranean passages not knowing where I was going. I must have walked for days, no energon, no light, no sky…" He frowned, trailing off a bit. "I had never been encouraged to fly before, nor permitted to, but even at that age I craved the sky. By the time I stumbled into Primus' spark chamber I had resigned myself to my fate, a death in the darkness, alone and forgotten." He paused, optics lowering. Optimus studied him carefully while he was lost in thought. It was strange, he had never considered what kind of life Starscream must have led. Granted, he knew that the Decepticons had begun their rebellion due to dissatisfaction in their lives, but he hadn't thought that it stemmed from something deeper. Starscream was continuing, and he quickly turned his attention back to his tale. "However, I did stumble into an old abandoned reliquary, and took shelter there. I must have drifted into a recharge state, as I don't recall exactly how I got there, but the next thing I knew, I was in front of a spark so large, so bright it nearly blinded me." He tapped his chin thoughtfully staring up at the dormant spark above them. "I was even more surprised when I touched a string of energy, and felt words form in my head…" He frowned then his optics lifted from their thoughtful distance. "He offered to heal me. I would have died if he had not, so I had little choice. In return, he offered a deal. I would remember nothing in my waking life, though my spark would remember our encounter in case I needed to return… He would save my life, and enable me to find my way out. In return, there would come a time when he would ask me for something, to be determined. I had little choice, so I took the deal. To date, I have not yet repaid that debt."

Optimus' processor whirled with the implications. "He repaired you? How?"

Starscream shrugged slightly. "It was… much like Vector Sigma creates mechs I imagine. I felt no pain, and when my processor cleared I was whole."

"So you owe him." Optimus smiled slightly behind his mask.

The seeker merely scowled. "Yes, but as I said he's not yet collected. He seems perfectly content to remain here snoozing his life away. He could care less about what goes on outside his precious spark chamber."

Optimus smiled again, lifting his optics to stare at the pulsing light above them. "And yet… you choose this place to hide for safety while your physical body was undergoing intense stress and abuse."

"It wasn't MY choice." Was the clipped response. "Trust me, I would rather have crafted a room full of attractive femmes fawning over me." He scowled. "I made the choice to secure my consciousness, and wound up here. It's been BORING beyond belief, let me tell you."

"Have you attempted to leave?"

"Yes." Was the sullen response, a dark frown crossing his face. "I have. Many times. However, to no effect." He gestured. "Look around you."

Optimus did so, staring about the chamber critically. At first, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to find, until he became aware how closed in the chamber felt. "There are no doors."

"Correct. And while this may not be a literal physical prison, it operates on the same principles I'm afraid. I am stuck here." He frowned, optics lifting with a thoughtful look. "And that brings me to the question then of how you are here. I have not been able to depart… so are you fated to remain here, torturing me for the remainder of my days?"

Optimus smiled slightly. "No, I think not." He lifted his gaze. "I believe that there may be a reason that I was drawn here. If it truly were a prison not meant to be breached, I would not have been able to enter. However, I believe the only answer is directly before us." And with that, he rose to his feet, much to the seekers' alarm.

"What are you doing?!"

"You should not be the only one to communicate with Primus." Was the quiet reply. "I have an obligation as the Matrix-bearer to at least inform him of the situation in which we find ourselves." And without waiting for Starscream to protest again, he reached a hand out and lightly touched the glowing energy pulse at the center of the vortex.

Immediately, he felt a shock of power jolt through his very being. It was not physical as much as it was emotional, a strong awareness and sense of presence that suddenly hung around him, heavy and condensed. At the same time, the spark brightened to a near nova intensity, and Optimus cringed backwards against the wall, feeling Starscream writhing in distinct uncomfortable reaction as well.

**-WHO DISTURBS ME-**

The words were not audible so much as they vibrated through his very being. Optimus felt his processor whirl, nearly overloading with the sudden sensory input that it was unfamiliar with. Though he technically had no processor in here, it was all in his spark, the sensation still felt the same. "I am Optimus Prime." He stated, uncertain if he needed to clarify further. "I come seeking Starscream's assistance. He is unable to return to us in the physical realm."

There was a stifling silence, almost oppressive, before the pulsing light dimmed slightly, calming down. **–AT LAST-**

Optimus blinked, and briefly glanced over at Starscream, seeing startled ruby optics return his look with just as much surprise. "Were you expecting me?" He managed at last, returning his gaze upwards at the undefined glowing orb hovering above them.

**-I HAVE-**

Optimus felt a shiver run down his spine, a thrill of amazement. "Why?" he asked, feeling his spark pulsing in his chest. "Why have you waited for me?"

**-YOU ARE THE MATRIX BEARER.- **Was the simple response, as if that explained everything. **–YOU ALONE ARE QUALIFIED-**

"I don't understand." Optimus said, puzzled. "Qualified for what exactly?"

**-TO UNIFY CYBERTRON-**

"And just HOW does that relate to me?" Starscream finally spoke up, tone slightly fearful, but defiant bravado bluffing over it. "You've kept me confined here for Pri… er… for who knows how long, and suddenly the Autobot shows up and he's here to save the day?"

**-BE SILENT, SCREAMING ONE.-**

Starscream bristled, optics darkening with rage, but was abruptly cowed. After all, when one was rebuffed by one's God, one usually knew it was smart not to talk back. Optimus however, felt no such reservations. "How do you wish me to unify Cybertron. I have done my best, but the Council has decided that they know what is best for our people. I am unable to change their minds."

**-DO YOU BELIEVE THEY KNOW WHAT IS BEST?-**

"No…" Optimus said, sighing slightly with regret. "I do not think they do. They are clouded by politics and racism."

**-THIS IS TRUE. THEREFORE, YOU MUST UNIFY CYBERTRON YOURSELF, OPTIMUS PRIME. YOU ARE THE MATRIX BEARER. IT IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY.-**

Optimus sighed, optics dimming. "Yes. I know." He said quietly.

**-YOU HAVE LOST SIGHT OF YOUR PATH.-**

"Yes…"

**-YOU REQUIRE GUIDANCE AND DIRECTION.-**

Optimus nodded wordlessly. "Yes, I do." He lifted his gaze, optics sharp. "I would welcome any guidance and direction you could provide."

**-VERY WELL. YOU SHALL HAVE IT.- **Was the prompt reply.

And without warning, the room brightened painfully bright, causing Optimus to shutter his optics. And then, the emotions hit him like a wall of thought. Fear, surprise, shock, horror, alarm. They flooded into him so sharply, so intense that he took a gasp of air without realizing he was doing so, optics onlining as he sat up sharply, nearly ripping the cables from his chest as he threw Ratchet aside with a wild thrash of his arms. The medic was clearly taken by surprise, stumbling back into his rolling table, sending metal items clattering to the floor. "Optimus!" The medic grabbed his shoulders, struggling to calm him as he shoved him back on the berth with a heavy clang. Optimus blinked up at him, confused for a moment, disjointed at having suddenly been thrown back into his body without warning.

"Ratchet?" He croaked, feeling strangely light. Everything pulsed around him, too bright, too loud, and his chest felt strangely compressed.

"Yes, calm down." The medic said firmly, eyeing him warily. "Your reading spiked all of a sudden, no warning, and you started acting as if Unicron was after you. What happened?" He eyed him warily.

"I'm… not entirely sure." Optimus murmured, pushing a hand to his head as his processor throbbed strangely.

"What the FRAG did you do!?" A familiar voice snapped out loudly from behind them. As one, Ratchet and Optimus turned to stare at the other berth behind them, where Starscream had sat violently upright, crimson optics blazing in fury, wide with fear as his hands tore almost desperately at his cockpit, struggling to find the catches. Stunned into silence, the two mechs could only watch as the golden cockpit slid aside, bright blue light spilling out in soothing pulses, as a miniature glowing sphere hung hovering in the empty space between his cockpit's glass and his spark chamber, pulsing gently.

It was The Matrix, only…

Optimus immediately wrenched his own plating open, and was relieved to see the familiar blue light spill outwards, pulsing slowly in calm rhythm that matched it's twin. However, at second glance, he noticed that it was quite clearly smaller. In fact, half the size it should be. "Oh Primus." He whispered. "What did he do?"

"NO!" Starscream screeched, voice raising three octaves in one second. "I don't WANT it! Take it back!"

"I don't think I can." Optimus said, stunned as he pushed himself upright, staring in wonder at the Matrix pulsing in Starscream's chest. It was a perfect miniature version, a perfect replica, and he knew instinctively that it WAS the same… it was half of one piece. He could FEEL the link…

Oh Primus.

Starscream's optics widened even more as he came to exactly the same conclusion at exactly the same time, his facial plates freezing, and even his vents hitching in alarm as they stared at each other, shock radiating between the two of them.

-He didn't…-

-He did.-


	4. Chapter 4

**Dichotomy of Good and Evil**

By: nightelfcrawler

_Author's Note: Apologies for the slowness between updates. Real life takes priority._

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Both of them shuddered in tandem, and Starscream groaned aloud, his hands going up to catch his head as it slumped forward, burying in his palms. "I would have preferred being offlined… Pit, I'd take being locked up in that hell-hole for eternity to THIS. This has got to be one enormous JOKE."

Optimus wasn't sure if he should have been insulted, sickened, or relieved. But the fact was, the two of them knew immediately what had been done to them, despite the physical impossibilities that the two of them had not been directly connected a the time. It seemed that Primus was more God-like than Starscream had given him credit for.

"Ok… WHAT is going on?!" Ratchet demanded, optics wide with astonishment as he stared at Starscream, then back to Optimus. "What did you do?"

"It wasn't me." Optimus murmured, dazed. "It was Primus."

"WHAT?!"

"Oh shut up." Came the grumpy grumble. "You're giving me a headache, Autobot."

Ratchet stared incredulously at Starscream, then back to Optimus. "What do you mean it was PRIMUS."

"I… I can't be sure." Optimus said slowly. "But… I think Starscream just cashed in on that debt he owes him." The seeker looked up at him sharply, optics strained, a deeply-etched expression of dread in his optics, as a wash of fear swept through Optimus at the same time they exchanged glances. "He must have known I was incapable of doing this myself." He mused more to himself than anything. "Though I question his reasoning between literally splitting the Matrix in two."

"Not to mention the OTHER side-effect." Starscream snapped. "I hardly think it was necessary to BOND us."

Ratchet looked completely floored. "Er… what?"

"Are you deaf or just stupid?" Was the sharp reply, as Starscream shoved himself off the berth, ripping the cables from his chest and slamming his cockpit shut. "Frag this. I want NOTHING to do with it. Primus can take his fragging responsibilities and shove it up his aft."

Optimus frowned. –Starscream- He sent through their newly formed bond, and the mech visibly flinched, stopping dead in his tracks and glancing back at him with narrow resentful optics. –We were not given a choice in this matter, neither of us. However, it has happened. We cannot deny what it means for us, and for Cybertron. Two leaders, two Matrix-bearers who represent two factions… was this not what Primus meant by uniting Cybertron? You once strived to be leader of the Decepticons. I believe you have finally achieved that.- Starscream's optics narrowed dangerously, though Optimus felt the intense flicker of concentrated emotions that he recognized as the seeker's. –You now have the power to make that difference. Together we can put a stop to this injustice that your people have suffered, and together we CAN unite Cybertron.-

"You have GOT to be joking." The answer was clipped and controlled, though Optimus could feel the rush of euphoria, the feeling of being overwhelmed, and the deep-set fear of something else… He blinked as he realized that Starscream was not afraid of the responsibility of what had been placed in his lap, rather he was deeply afraid of being CLOSE to someone on a level he had never come close to being before. All his life, he had pushed others away, even his closest friends and trinemates. He had never let them get too close, never let them see the truth hiding beneath the surface… that he was deeply lonely, desiring companionship, but deathly afraid of it at the same time. Optimus' head reeled as he took in the rush of intense emotions all at once. Starscream was far more intense than ANYTHING he'd ever felt. How could one person feel such intense emotions like that? It completely betrayed everything on the surface, a self-controlled, angry harsh person who had never displayed anything but contempt and scorn. Unless… He blinked, and then smiled slowly behind his mask. Of course… he wore a mask to hide the truth from everyone… except himself. Suddenly, Optimus understood him a whole lot more. Perhaps Primus HAD known what he was doing… the two of them wore masks to hide the truth from everyone… only one was physical, the other metaphorical.

"Ok, let me get this straight." Ratchet asked, pushing a hand to his head in exasperation. "Primus split the Matrix in two pieces, somehow bonded the two of you together and magically fixed ALL the damage to Starscream's processor?"

"It seems so." Optimus murmured, glancing over as Starscream stormed to the window, grabbing his head in frustration, his wings quivering ever so slightly, not enough to notice except for the fact that he could FEEL his nervousness, and feel the twitching limbs in some remote detached part of him.

"Well…." Ratchet said, collapsing back into his chair, looking baffled. "…I never expected THAT."

Optimus slid off the berth slowly, glancing over at Starscream, feeling the steady pulse of emotions flooding over to him like a surging river. He did his best to steady the flow, as it was quickly becoming exhausting and confusing to feel that much all at once. After all, he himself felt rather overwhelmed, and a bit resentful at the choice being made for them without consent, but he didn't dare let that leak out across the newly formed bond. "I don't believe any of us did. However, with unsurprising side-effects, we did achieve what we set out to do… find out how to utilize Starscream's knowledge and experience… by bringing him back into a conscious state."

Starscream glanced back at them, the emotions suppressing a little as he was distracted. "What? Why?"

"Because we need your help, believe it or not." Ratchet said dryly, earning himself a sharp look from the seeker. "No matter what we try, no answers have presented themselves to us regarding this energon contamination issue."

"Energon contamination?" Starscream asked sharply, interest clearly spiked.

"I think it might be best if we catch you up on everything that has happened." Optimus suggested.

"Yes, but not here." Ratchet said suddenly. "I've delayed my appointments long enough for the two of you. It will take time getting him acquainted with everything. Do it elsewhere."

"As you wish, old friend." Optimus smiled fondly. "We will get out of your way, if that's what you want."

"Humph."

Optimus smiled, optics crinkling in merriment as he glanced at Starscream. The mech looked annoyed. "Come. We will return to my apartment and talk more there." Starscream frowned, but made no argument, obviously knowing well that he had no other options and it was useless arguing. Still labeled as a criminal, there would be nowhere he could go to escape scrutiny, no credits or possessions to his name meant he would have no energon to feed him. Therefore, he turned and fell into step behind Optimus, intuitive enough to know that it was best if he played along. Optimus could feel the emotions churning through their link, however. Humiliation, anger, resentment, and to his surprise, a little bit of respect. He did his best to hide his response, but the quick flash of irritation caught him just the same. It was very difficult to hide anything when one's sparks were linked. They made it back without incident. Optimus had to hand it to Starscream. Every time he glanced back at him, his expression was flat and blank, optics downcast, the perfect example of a subservient prisoner. Though beneath the surface, Optimus could feel his emotions churning behind the calm exterior. He found it curious that he could play the part so well, but then he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. It explained how Starscream could tolerate Megatron for so long, despite the rumors that had flitted around about their activities off the battlefield.

Surprisingly, a very hot-headed feeling of fury swept through to him. –It was not like that!- Was the infuriated response to his unspoken thoughts. –Not that it is YOUR business.-

"I'm sorry." He spoke aloud, as they were alone in the lift heading alone up to his apartment. "I did not intend to pry."

"Yet you did." Was the sharp response as the doors opened and they made their way down the empty hall into Optimus personal rooms. Immediately, Starscream's posture changed. His wings slumped slightly as his face lost it's tight controlled mask, and he strode slowly across the room, looping his hands behind his back as he stopped before the very windows that he'd stood before unknowingly before.

Optimus felt the churning emotions shifting through their link, and knew instinctively what was required. Walking over to his cabinets, he unlocked the bottom one, pulled out two crystal clear cubes of sparkling light, and straightened, holding one out to his guest. "I do believe we need this."

Starscream half-glanced over at him, the slight subtle movement suddenly casting his profile into a graceful nobility of sorts. There was an errant grace that Optimus had never seen before, almost as if he was above everything else, but not in a haughty way this time. Optimus suddenly got a small glimpse of perhaps what they shared in common. The essence of a leader. In silence, Starscream accepted the cube, eyeing it as he held it up, watching how the light of the city sparkled through the crystalline facets. His expression was difficult to read, and Optimus made no attempt to probe into his privacy. He stood beside him, sipping the cube slowly through the small port in his mask that slid aside enough to allow him to drink. Starscream however, just held the cube, staring out at the city. "Are you not going to drink?"

"I don't normally imbibe." Was the curt response.

Optimus blinked. "Ever?"

"Ever."

A slight smile pulled at his lips. "I hear a story behind that." Starscream glanced coldly over at him, irritation in his optics. "You must admit, it goes against your reputation."

The seeker snorted, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "My reputation is worthless, Optimus Prime."

"How so?"

That brought a coy smile to Starscream's lips. Swirling the cube slightly, he dimmed his optics slightly. "When your life is built on lies, you discover ways to manipulate it to your advantage."

Optimus frowned slightly, but nodded at that explanation. "Then it seems perhaps there is far more to you than meets the eye."

"Oh for Primus' sake enough with that slagging line!"

For a moment neither of them spoke, then gently Optimus chuckled. To his surprise, Starscream smirked, and a soft snort of amusement escaped him, the closest thing he could get to a laugh. "Sorry." Optimus mused, shaking his head slightly. "I often forget how cliché that sounds."

"Incredibly."

They were silent again, though the brief moment of joviality had broken the tension. Surprisingly, it was Starscream who broke the silence. "You were the last person I expected to ever see again, let alone be… bonded to."

Optimus lowered his gaze, watching a few vehicles zipping about on the expressway beneath them. "I too am slightly confounded. I did not intend to find another to share myself with."

Starscream's lips pursed slightly. "Elita One."

Optimus blinked. "You knew of her?" Most had not known, outside his most trusted, for security reasons. The mate of a Prime was a target, always.

"Know thine enemy." Starscream said loftily, though his frown returned. "I knew because I hacked into Teletran One ages ago. You lot never figured it out, but it was quite convenient to have inside information on every one of your movements."

Optimus lifted an optic ridge. "Just how long?"

"From the time shortly after we arrived on Earth up until the time we nearly blew up the base with that experimental warp gate. Whatever repairs your engineer did disabled my hack." Starscream glanced over at him, and threw him a knowing smirk. "Made it more challenging I suppose."

"Curious. And we had no clue this whole time."

"Of course not."

Optimus shook his head. "You never told Megatron, did you?"

"What was the point." Starscream shrugged casually, turning from the window and striding over to the couch, sprawling down on it, making himself comfortable as he put the still full cube on the table. "He never considered my ideas worth his time. The information would have been wasted in his hands. I did far more with it developing my own plans." He frowned slightly. "Never got to test them out, but the concepts were sound."

"I still don't see how you could tolerate his narrow-minded viewpoint." Optimus mused, studying him thoughtfully. "Which brings me to another point…"

At that, Starscream's optics heated to an intense fire, and a rush of intense emotions snapped through the link and slammed into him full force. Anger, hatred, humiliation, fear, shame, rage… "DON'T go there." He snarled darkly. "Ever. Do you understand me?"

He probably hadn't intended to answer the question, but his reaction was answer enough. Optimus retreated slightly. "I'm sorry." He said quietly. "However, these things will not remain private for long." His optics lifted, and he saw resigned understanding through the resentment. "We may wish our situation were not so, but we cannot. We must accept it."

Starscream scowled, looking sullen as he turned his gaze back to the wall. "You needn't remind me of that." He said crossly. "I am consistently aware of our predicament, courtesy of this… PARASITE inside me."

"It is not a parasite." Optimus said quietly.

"It fragging well is."

He lightly ran his thumb along the rim of the cube, smiling slightly. Starscream's defiance brought back memories of another youth with similar defiance. "I thought so once." He murmured. "I hated it just as much as you do now." Starscream's optics lifted, surprise in his gaze, and disbelief. "You do not believe me." Optimus smiled knowingly. "I understand why. Optimus Prime, the infallible Autobot Commander, un-phased by anything, bearer of the Matrix since the dawn of time., am I right?" He chuckled at the skeptical look he was thrown. "I understand, believe me." He moved over to the chair adjacent to the couch and sank into it, his long limbs stretching out across the floor as he relaxed into the plush fabric. "While most may not believe it, I once was no more special than any other mech on Cybertron."

"Oh please, don't bore me with the 'I was just a normal high-breed noble' crap." Starscream sniped sarcastically. "You expect me to believe you were one of the low-lifes like myself?"

"Actually, yes." Optimus said calmly, un-phased by Starscream's dry wit. "I was a dock worker. I loaded supply ships."

Starscream blinked, thrown. "That's all?"

"That's all." Optimus smiled, sipping his cube. "I was ordinary. My friend Dion and I were simple mechs, good friends looking to relax at a bar once our shift was over, not desiring to be anything special, anything unique." He trailed off, optics shifting as he lost himself in his memories. "When they sent the call out for all mechs to come in for testing, we were some of the first to be called. We both went in after a night of drinking, not expecting to be chosen of course. What were we? No one special. We were dock workers, we did our jobs well to get our paycheck, nothing more. We didn't strive to be better, we just did what was required of us." He trailed off, lost in his thoughts. "But that night, after waiting with about a thousand others for hours, the moment I entered the chamber, I knew. I felt the pull. I felt the power reaching out to me. Everyone saw it react, and they knew as well. It was at that moment that Orion Pax ceased to be, and Optimus Prime was born, prepared mentally to prepare for the implantation, his best friend Dion to become his right hand and guardian, thusly named Ultra Magnus." Starscream's optics widened slightly, but Optimus continued unabashed. "I sometimes wonder what might have happened if I had not been chosen. I resented the fact it had chosen me, wished it had not. I felt invaded. But after time, once I learned it's meaning, it's function and my place, I understood why it was necessary and accepted it." He glanced over at Starscream, noting the seeker watching him warily, but attentively. "So believe me, Starscream. I have been there. I know how it is. As you said to me earlier, we have led different lives. I do not know yours, but do not presume that you know mine either. We are strangers to one another, especially now that the war is over. Perhaps we knew each other once, as enemies. We are not that any longer, so let us not start off on the wrong foot. Like it or not, we are to be caught up in this together. We must make the most of it and learn to at least tolerate one another. While I would not presume to lecture you, I still must point out that while you may have advanced skills in many areas I do not, there are many things that you do not know about being a Matrix-bearer, and as you now are, you must learn to cope one way or another. Lesser mechs have not been strong enough to handle it, despite being chosen. Some have given in, some have not been strong enough in their spark, though they may have the qualities of a leader."

Starscream frowned slightly, optics lowering and shifting deep in thought. "I had not considered that."

"Hm?"

Crimson optics lifted. "That you had a LIFE before the war."

Optimus smiled. "Not many of us do think of such things. War tends to absorb all our attention and energies. For example, Ratchet was unaware of your scientific background."

Starscream glanced at him. "And you knew of it?"

"I spoke with Skyfire in length after he joined us." Optimus admitted. "He had much to say to your tribute. I learned a great deal that I had not known." His gaze slid speculatively over Starscream. "Though there were many holes in his information. I find it sad you two never reconciled."

Starscream's gaze darkened. "It was impossible during the war. We were on opposing sides."

"You didn't have to be, you know."

"YES, we did, Prime." Was the firm response. Crimson optics shifted to study him sharply. "I am not the same mech that Skyfire knew before the war. He did not change under the passage of time, I did. There is no going back from that." His gaze shifted, turning thoughtful. "If things had ended differently, perhaps we might have had that chance. It was impossible during the war. Believe it or not, we Decepticons had a REASON to stay with our faction beyond hate. It didn't matter that Megatron lost his vision of our true direction, all of us had our reasons that would have clashed with the Autobot way of doing things." He shook his head, optics dimming as he fixed a stare on the wall. "No, Prime… we went to war because of fundamental differences, and as long as that was what we fought for, there was no reconciliation possible."

"And now?"

Starscream glanced up at him sharply. "Now?"

"Skyfire has taken up the head of Cybertron scientific research." Optimus smiled gently at him. "I am quite certain he would be thrilled to see you again."

Starscream blinked slowly, and for the first time since their strange link, Optimus felt a flicker of hope pass through the bond. "You think he would be?" Starscream frowned, no bravado, no mask in place, but honest concern and a little uncertainty.

"I'm quite sure." Optimus said, inclining his head slightly.

"Does he know?" Was the next question, a frown passing over the seeker's face. "About any of this?"

"Nothing." Optimus reassured. "He only assisted us with some preliminary research at the beginning of our investigation into this crisis."

"Speaking of which." Starscream shifted, sitting upright and leaning forward, draping his arms over his knees as he folded his hands beneath his chin, fixing Optimus with a piercing look. "I need to know what this situation is that you all keep eluding to."

Optimus nodded, rising. Starscream was behind him swiftly as he moved to his console and pulled up the data. "It's all here. Every bit of research that Skyfire and Ratchet have contributed, my own findings as well. Unfortunately, we've not been able to uncover any solutions as of yet. Hopefully you might see something in this data that we could not."

Starscream nodded curtly, taking a seat in the chair's edge, as his wings didn't permit him to lean back comfortably. "I'll take a look." When Optimus didn't move, he glanced up. "This will take a while. Go amuse yourself." He waved a hand lightly, then turned the console scream towards him and leaning forward, optics focusing on the screen and beginning to read.

Optimus smiled, but turned to leave. Before he did so, he moved the still full high-grade cube and placed it on the edge of the desk by Starscream's hand. The seeker never glanced up once, absorbed in his reading. He let him be. He entered his personal room and shut the door, laying down with the intention to recharge. However, he found that was not so simple. His mind was filled with questions, confusion over the strange turn of events, and the odd choice of direction Primus had steered him, both of them, in. Had someone told him that he would find himself bonded to the insufferable Decepticon Air Commander who everyone loathed, including his own faction, he would have laughed. He had never desired another bondmate after Elita One had been taken from him. Her death had hit him hard, and it had only been his responsibilities that had kept him from offlining himself in grief. He had moved on, but he had never truly healed from that loss. He had never desired to. Many had tried to get him to open up and accept partners, if only for companionship and what everyone considered to be a vital part of existence. He had always refused. There were some things he felt were inappropriate to ever share with anyone after having been connected on such a personal level to the one he'd believed was the love of his life. A swell of anger suddenly filled him, and it took all his restraint to push it back down, as he felt a strange tug of awareness that told him Starscream had felt it as well. Summoning his inner calm, Optimus swept his mental defenses up, something that had come from years of practice around intuitive men. It still didn't curb his anger. Why would Primus have chosen this for the both of them, sworn enemies who had never even shared a kind word across the battlefield? True, Optimus had taken pity on the condition he had found Starscream in, but he hardly thought that constituted as the desire to be linked to him on a most personal level. Frowning, Optimus focused on the strange tickle in the back of his consciousness that identified Starscream. The seeker was completely absorbed in his work, from what he could tell. No thoughts or emotions trickled through, only calculated focused attention to his work. It was interesting, Optimus thought as he silently observed, that someone so flighty, so emotional could suddenly just turn it all off and completely focus on one single thing. It was as if a switch had been flipped somewhere in his unstable brain that had just turned off everything but his logic circuits. Optimus found himself wondering why that was, whether it was a set program, or whether it was just the seeker's nature. He wasn't sure why he found it so fascinating, perhaps it was the fact that up until this point, few had known anything about the mysterious Air Commander, other than what he clearly WANTED people to know. There was a strong bravado, a defense set up that was designed to give everyone a certain impression that might or might not be the truth. He was such an oxymoronic representation of himself. Emotional overload coupled with intelligence that surpassed most people's expectations.

Optimus onlined his optics, processor foggy. He hadn't even been aware of slipping into light recharge. Glancing at his clock, he was surprised to see that it was quite late. And yet… Rising slowly, he opened the door, peering out into the living quarters, and saw Starscream still hunched over the console, staring at it intently, though his optics seemed dull, strained and clearly fatigued. With a slight smile, he was interested to see the high-grade cube was near the seeker's elbow, and only had a very small amount left. "You should rest." Optimus said quietly, stepping out into the open room.

Starscream started slightly, looking back at him blearily. "What?"

"You should rest." He said firmly, moving the high-grade cube away from certain doom at the seeker's elbow as it bumped into it. "You've been at it for hours now. You need to take a break."

"I'm not finished analyzing the data yet." Was the tired response, the seeker rubbing his optics to clear them.

"You can finish tomorrow." Optimus said gently, reaching over and turning the console off, much to the irritation of the flier. However, he said nothing, merely grunted in response. "Come on." Optimus grabbed his elbow and pulled him to his feet. Starscream jerked his arm out of his grip and staggered to his feet on his own, though swayed dangerously. Optimus quickly grabbed his shoulders to steady him and turned him towards the spare room. "You only had the one cube, my friend?"

"Frag you." Was the slightly slurred response. "I told you… don't drink… goes to my head." He frowned, focusing hard on keeping both feet steady on the ground as he was directed to his berth. "Some… instability in my processor…." He slumped down on the flat surface with a loud clatter. "Fragging drives me nuts..."

"I can see that." Optimus mused. "Rest well."

Starscream just waved a hand vaguely in his direction, dismissing him. Shaking his head, it was all Optimus could do to keep from laughing as he left the seeker be. Fortunately, the drowsiness of his companion finally eased his mind, and he was able to lay back down on his berth and drift into a calm and restful recharge.


	5. Chapter 5

**Dichotomy of Good and Evil**

By: nightelfcrawler

_Author's Note: M/M quite obviously here, along with non-consensual relationships, and violence. Another story I've had sitting around for a while I figured I would publish._

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**Chapter Five**

It was very quiet the following morning. Optimus noted the door was still shut to the guest room, and felt no awareness through the link, as Starscream was still clearly out cold. He set about cleaning the cubes from the night before, recycling them in the matter dispenser, then doing a few quick housekeeping chores before attending to his messages. Ratchet had checked in to find out if they'd made progress, and Skyfire had also left a message asking him to contact him when he had the time to share some ideas. Optimus filed that away to do once his partner was awake.

He glanced at the door, wondering if he should wake him. They had much work to cover, and while he regretted the need to rouse him, he decided that he should at least check on his status. He rose and approached the door, knocking lightly. "Starscream?" There was no response, and not so much as a flicker across their bond. Slowly, he opened the door and peered inside. He blinked at the sight. Starscream apparently hadn't been able to find a comfortable position laying flat on his back to recharge, as most mechs did, though as Optimus studied him, he immediately recognized the problem. The berth was too narrow for Starscream to lay comfortably on his back given his wingspan, he would have fallen off. Instead, he had to lay on his side, wings tilted at an angle, one only inches from the floor, a few scrape marks marring the metal surface where it had brushed against the ground. Starscream appeared solidly in recharge, optics dark, face calm, although as Optimus watched, he saw minute twitches travel up the exterior of his wings, vents whirring once now and then, his facial plates shifting slightly. Optimus wondered what he was thinking. Was he dreaming? Most mechs didn't dream often, it was a side-effect of an over-active processor. However, he had no doubt that if any mech would dream, it would be this one. His processor seemed to run a million miles a second, far beyond the rest of them. He quietly closed the door and shut it gently, taking care not to disturb the seeker. He could take care of business. Considering everything, it couldn't hurt to let him sleep a bit longer.

Unfortunately, it seemed he was to get no respite. The door chimed. Optimus sighed and opened it. "Prowl." He smiled warmly as the white mech nodded casually to him. "It's good to see you, please come in."

"Thank you, Prime." Was the always formal response as the white mech stepped into his apartment. "I see you haven't redecorated yet. Didn't Jazz give you the name of the interior decorator he liked?"

"Yes, but I really don't see the need for it." Optimus smiled slightly, shaking his head. "I'm quite comfortable as I am."

"Well, if that's what you like. But I won't be the one to tell him that you're not taking his advice."

Optimus chuckled. "I would have thought he had more on his hands, what with the little ones. How are they?"

"Doing well." Prowl smiled proudly, sinking down into the couch and crossing his legs casually. "They're quite a handful, I must admit. Fortunately for us, Jazz is a natural father. I can't say I would be able to handle it alone. I admit, I was nervous at first about adopting three of them instead of one, but Jazz insisted and I don't regret the choice to do so."

Optimus laughed quietly. "Well Jazz has always been the adaptable type."

"So he has." Prowl said proudly.

"How about your project? Any progress?"

"Yes, we're nearly ready to open up in the next week or so. Fortunately since Jazz has been so eager to take over the parental duties, that has left me free to finish up the last touches. We're planning to open the gallery for a preliminary tour."

"Wonderful. I hope I shall be invited."

"Prime, I would never think of excluding you." Prowl leaned forward smiling. "Which is why I'm here. I hoped you might be available to join us for a housewarming. A few friends will be there, just a small gathering of the old crew."

"I would be delighted." Optimus agreed swiftly. "When?"

"Tonight, about moon-down." Optimus' smile faded slightly behind his mask. Unfortunately for him, Prowl knew well enough his expressions. "What is it? You can't come?"

"I'm not certain. I have some… ah… developments that need taking care of."

"Developments?" Prowl asked. "I hope it's nothing serious…?"

Leave it to Starscream to make an entrance.

The guest room door opened as the sleepy seeker stumbled out, completely ignoring the two of them and making his way down the hall, towel slung over his right wing as he yawned widely.

Prowl was sitting so rigidly on the couch, that Optimus swore he heard some servos strain. "W…..what is HE doing here?!"

"Shove it up your aft." Was the rude response, courtesy of a single finger gesture accompanied shortly before the door to the washroom slammed shut.

Prowl slowly turned his head towards Optimus, utter disbelief written all over his face. "I ah… have company." Optimus managed politely. "He had a late night. Honestly, he's not quite as rude normally."

"Optimus." Prowl said tensely. "That is Starscream."

"Yes."

"He's a Decepticon."

"Yes."

"He's supposed to be in a maximum security prison."

"Yes."

"He's not."

"Yes."

Prowl just stared at him, face unreadable. Optimus could just hear the tactician's logic circuits overloading. "You have got to be kidding me."

"No, I'm afraid not." The silence that followed was broken by the sound of water turning on, and a loud curse followed by a crash.

"PRIME! WHERE'S YOUR FRAGGING HOT WATER!?"

Optimus winced. "Ah, sorry, it takes a moment."

"Would have been nice to know!" A low mutter. "I think I broke your shelf."

"Don't worry about it. I can replace it." Optimus was keenly aware of Prowl glaring intently at him as he shifted in his seat. "Ah, can I get you anything? I put a new pot of energon on a moment ago."

"Prime." Was the flat statement. "WHAT is going on?"

He sighed. "It's a long story, my friend."

"I refuse to leave until you tell me."

Optimus mentally groaned, but saw no way around it. With a sigh, he explained the situation to his former second-in-command, who sat with a stoic face and took it all in complete silence. He left out certain details, mostly the ones involved with a supernatural deity becoming involved and the subsequent link that had been forced on them, and stuck to just explaining that he needed Starscream's assistance solving the mystery, and he was his guest indefinitely. When he finally finished his explanation, they sat in silence, Optimus avoiding Prowl's gaze as the mech stared at him. It didn't help that the water finally shut off, and the room was plunged into an uncomfortable silence.

A while later, the door opened and Starscream strode out, armor gleaming freshly cleaned and dried. Granted, he hadn't been as filthy as when Optimus had found him, but there was something uniquely different seeing him stride proudly past them. He ignored Prowl completely, walked to the kitchen and poured himself half a cube of the brewing energon, sipping it with a grimace and shake of his head, rubbing his temples. "I swear. If you ever give me high-grade again, I'll shoot you."

"You needed it more than I did." Optimus chuckled.

"Oh frag off." Was the sullen response as he downed another sip, finally glancing over at the rather stiffly seated Prowl. "What's HE doing here?" Ah the irony.

"He came to pay me a visit." Optimus said, frowning slightly and shooting him a silent order to behave himself. He got a rude response for his efforts, and a smirk from the seeker as he sighed. "He and Jazz are having a get-together tonight."

"And you're invited? Oh how touching." Was the flat response as the seeker poured another half cube and walked slowly over to stand behind Optimus, eyeing Prowl disdainfully. "Well don't let ME stop you. Go socialize or whatever it is you do these days." Prowl was just gawking at the two of them with a flabbergasted expression. Starscream scowled. "What's your problem, Autobot?" He scoffed. "Never seen a Decepticon before?"

"Th…this is just…." Prowl sputtered. Starscream smirked and calmly sipped his energon. "Primus…" He rubbed his head tiredly. "Optimus, you're getting yourself into trouble. If the council finds out that you've freed… him…"

"It would be most inconvenient. I would appreciate if you kept this information to yourself for the time being."

"I'm not sure I can… Optimus you're breaking the law for… a Decepticon piece of filth!"

"For a what?!" Starscream hissed, optics narrowing. "Say that to my face, Autobot!"

"Both of you enough!" Optimus said gently, putting a hand on the flat of the seeker's wing, effectively silencing him. A tremor swept up the flat surface, invisible to the optic, but clearly felt. "The war is over. Stop aggravating the situation." The seeker glowered down at him, but snorted and fell silent, Prowl just looked sullen. "Thank you." He turned back to Prowl. "I would like to join you, but unfortunately we have a situation to deal with."

"You mean /I/ have a situation to deal with." Was the rather gruff answer from the seeker. "Didn't you say you had no clue what was wrong? Let me deal with it. That's why I'm here isn't it?"

Optimus frowned, glancing back at him. "You can't isolate yourself here all the time."

"And what, go out and bump cubes with mechs who hate my fragging guts?" He snorted. "I'm still condemned to the mass public. The moment I show my face, they'll shoot me down and won't listen to explanations."

Optimus frowned and sighed. Starscream was right. They seemed to both understand that their unique development should for the time being remain out of the realm of knowledge of anyone who didn't already know. Starscream had no desire to spread it around, and Optimus had to admit he was in agreement. He wasn't ready for everyone to know, and he knew it would have a negative effect unless they handled it carefully. "I'm sorry." He finally managed. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am." Starscream said simply, turning his back to Prowl and Optimus, approaching the desk and making himself comfortable, pulling up the data and immediately ignoring the two of them.

Optimus sighed and shook his head. "Prowl, you know what I must ask of you."

"I know. Jazz will know, but I won't say a word to anyone else, though it goes against my better judgment." The former tactician grumbled, shooting Starscream a side-long glare. "I think this is a horrible idea, Optimus."

"You weren't there in the mines, seeing how they are treated." Optimus said, lowering his voice. "Seeing the damage he sustained due to multiple mechs forcing themselves on him. Prowl, none of us knew about the true status of these mines, the council made sure we didn't know. The working conditions are not fit for anyone living. Not sentient beings, no matter what their crime. I would not even wish such a place on Megatron himself."

"I would." Came an amused comment from behind them, Starscream smirking slightly without looking up.

Optimus grimaced. The seeker had far keener hearing than he'd thought. "In either case, we must change this. I cannot turn my back on it. I cannot forget it. I may not have the authority I once had, but I DO still possess the responsibilities of my office, and I do not intend to shirk them, council or no council."

Prowl shook his head slowly, obviously not liking it, but grudging acceptance visible on his face. "I still think you're crazy, Optimus. But it's your choice. If this is what you want, so be it, I won't stand in your way. Frag, Jazz would probably join you if I didn't watch him carefully."

"I'm sure he would." Optimus chuckled. "No, this is a mission only the two of us can tackle for the moment. If I come up with any working concepts on how to move forward, I will involve you if you wish."

"Primus knows I'd love to say no." Prowl grumbled. "But I'm not that kind of mech. You've got my help if you need it."

"Good. Thank you my friend."

There was another sudden doorbell ring, and everyone's head lifted sharply to stare at the door. Rising, Optimus walked over and activated the view screen, a one-way method to see who it was without indicating if he was home or not, a convenient installment. A familiar mech's face stared back at him, looking slightly concerned. Pulling back, Optimus offlined the screen and frowned, then turned slightly, gazing past Prowl to Starscream. "It's Skyfire." Immediately, Starscream surged to his feet, turned in one swift movement, and vanished into his room without so much as a word.

Prowl blinked, lifting an optic ridge. "What was that about?"

"At the moment, you, I and Ratchet are the only ones aware of his presence here. It's likely best we keep it that way, for now anyway." He turned to the door and opened it, smiling across at the large shuttle. "Skyfire, welcome. Please come in."

"Optimus." Was the polite response as the mech entered. "I wasn't able to… Oh hello Prowl."

"Skyfire."

"I hope I'm not intruding, Optimus. I thought it best I come down and speak with you in person rather than risk our communications being intercepted by the wrong sources."

"Of course." Optimus agreed, returning to his seat as the large shuttle stayed standing between the two. Skyfire had not changed much since the end of the war. He still was the same Cybertronian alt, never having taken an earth form, and was untouched by battle as he had refused to fight in many of them. However even he was not untouched by the goings on of their home world, and carried himself with a little more weight than he once had. "What have you found?"

"I uncovered something that might be important." The flier said, his intense optics shifting to the window in thought. Optimus wondered if this was a trait for fliers, as Starscream was prone to doing the same thing. "Though I cannot be entirely certain. I've analyzed the data Ratchet sent over from the infected mech you took samples from?" Optimus nodded, sensing a sudden keen interest flicker through his bond from Starscream who was clearly listening. "The energon was badly contaminated, which gave me the chance to rule out any synthetic contaminants we know of. There was no unknown compounds in the liquid, however there was some unusual natural elements that don't normally interact with energon."

"Natural elements?" Optimus wondered. "You mean other compounds?"

"It's normal for other compounds to be in energon threads." Skyfire offered. "That's why they refine it before distributing it, to get rid of any impurities and compounds that wouldn't be good for us. However, they're only calibrated to filter out certain compounds that are normally found in energon threads. When something unusual is introduced, it often isn't caught by the processing plants, only by the quality control specialists. Now, given how our energon is being produced now, it doesn't surprise me that some people might be skimping on that area of expertise, thinking it's unnecessary, especially given this energon mine is feeding the general population and it's the lowest grade out there."

"So they're skipping a step in the refining process to save mechpower and time?"

"Precisely."

Optimus sighed. "Well that would explain the situation. Were you able to narrow down what the compound is?"

"No, unfortunately not." Skyfire admitted with a reluctant sigh. "I ruled out the basic ones that are compatible with energon, but there are thousands, millions of other compounds that might have mutated or adapted to enter energon streams. And unfortunately I'm no molecular biologist, I'm a xenobiologist. If only we had someone more skilled in that area." He regretted with a sigh.

"Do you know anyone with that area of expertise?" Optimus asked, already knowing at least one answer.

"Unfortunately no." Skyfire said quietly. "The science community is still recovering from the war, anyone with knowledge who survived I've already spoken with, and their realm of skill is narrow I'm afraid."

"What about those you haven't spoken with?" Optimus asked quietly, drawing a curious look from Skyfire, and a scathing fury from his bond as Starscream caught on. "Would there be any of the Decepticons who might have knowledge in that area?"

Skyfire started slightly, and Optimus felt slightly guilty as he saw an expression of grief pass over his noble features. "Yes." He said finally. "Starscream." He said in a low voice. "He knew practically everything there is to know about microbiology and elements." He glanced over at Optimus, gaze unreadable. "But there's no way to gain his assistance in this situation, is there?"

Prowl lazily turned his head, face completely blank, but his optics glittering with amusement.

Optimus opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the door behind him slamming open. Startled, Skyfire whirled around as Prowl and Optimus casually glanced over to see Starscream fuming in the doorway, glaring daggers at him. "You just COULDN'T leave me out of this." He snarled darkly. "Fragger."

Skyfire's jaw dropped in shock, his optics widening in astonishment. "S….Star."

The seeker glanced over at Skyfire and scowled. "Long time." He said coolly, before turning his attention back to Optimus. "Go to your slagging party, we'll get to the bottom of this."

"Are you certain?" Optimus asked, knowing full well that the seeker was furious with him.

-You are an aft.- Was the sharp response with narrow glittering optics staring directly at him in anger. –So get it OUT so I can work.-

He smiled slightly, but rose. "Prowl."

The tactician nodded and rose, inclining his head to Skyfire before joining Optimus as the two of them moved out the door, shutting it softly behind them. Silence filled the corridor. "I'm very certain I wouldn't want to be in on the conversation they are about to have." Prowl murmured. "I'm surprised he hasn't started screaming yet." Optimus remained silent. He could feel Starscream's tight fury reigned in behind a stoic wall that he'd built to keep him out, but it was hastily constructed and imperfect. He got brief impressions of feelings, and knew for once Prowl was right. Starscream and Skyfire had much to catch up with, and whether or not they would be civil with each other remained to be seen. However, his thoughts were interrupted as Prowl took him by the elbow and stopped him. "Optimus." He said quietly. "Tell me what's really going on here. I was your Second in Command for mega-cycles. I know when you're keeping something to yourself, and I need to know what it is."

"Why?" Optimus asked softly. "What must you know?"

"Because I would like to consider that you still see me as a friend. And as your friend, you should be able to confide in me." He frowned, staring up at him with searching optics. "Why is Starscream not in the prison camp. You told me the rehearsed reason, but I know there's more to it than simply getting to the bottom of things."

Optimus sighed, rubbing his forehead. "There is more, Prowl. But I'm not certain it's wise to share it yet."

"And when IS the right time, Optimus?" Prowl asked darkly. "You've got one of the most dangerous mechs alive using your SHOWER."

Optimus smiled slightly. "He won't do anything untoward, Prowl. I assure you, Starscream and I have an understanding."

"And I'm just supposed to take your word for that?"

"Yes, my friend. You are."

Prowl sighed. "Wonderful. You're slagging insane you know."

"This wouldn't be the first time someone has told me that."

The party, for it was nothing short of that when Jazz was involved, was quite relaxing despite the decibel-popping music drumming in his head. Familiar faces came forward to speak with him, a few unfamiliar ones, and the high-grade flowed freely. It was a very long night, and not something he was fully interested in, but he stayed out of loyalty to his men. By the time he finally trudged himself back to his apartment, it was well past any decent hour for recharge. However, as he entered his quarters, he was surprised to see the two fliers were still awake, and huddled around the computer, discussing something in low thoughtful tones. They didn't even notice his arrival, so engulfed were they in their work, until Starscream glanced up with a distracted frown, obviously sensing him through the bond. "You're back already?"

"It's well past four."

"Bah. Autobots don't know how to party." He glanced back down. "Well don't interrupt us. We're on to something."

"Star, you really shouldn't talk to the Prime like that!" Skyfire admonished.

"I can talk to him however the frag I like." Was the terse response. "Now go away." He waved impatiently at Optimus. "Go recharge or something."

"Yes, sir." Was the rather amused response, which actually got a small flash of smug satisfaction in return, along with a twitch of Starscream's lips into a smirk. Skyfire just looked scandalized.

Optimus shook his head and made his way into his room, sinking down onto his berth tiredly. He could hear them speaking softly through the door, and realized he hadn't quite latched it, but he was in no mood to get up and close it just for the mere convenience. Besides, he found it interesting to listen to their voices drone on and on about things he had no knowledge of. It was lulling and helped him slip into recharge very swiftly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Dichotomy of Good and Evil**

By: nightelfcrawler

_Author's Note: M/M quite obviously here, along with non-consensual relationships, and violence. Another story I've had sitting around for a while I figured I would publish._

_Sorry on the delays, life has been busy and haven't been in a writing mood :p_

**Chapter Six**

Unfortunately, his recharge was less than peaceful.

About halfway through a quiet rest cycle, images began to flood his processor. Strange images. Twisted images. Violent images. He saw fire burning down towers, he saw explosions without sound raining all around him, he saw faces that he knew he should know but somehow didn't, falling from the sky with shrill shrieks of pain. And then the world spun wildly around him as white-hot agony slammed into him, burning his limbs, blinding his optics, scoring his wings until the ground came up to slam jarringly into him, knocking the white pure black. But it didn't knock him out. Instead, he was distinctly aware of the screams around him, the dribble of energon leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and running down his chest from a hole somewhere in the lower part of his jaw and neck. But he did not give up. A surge of strength flooded through him along with raw anger that filled through his very spark, enraging him. The injustice, the horror, the fear…

Optimus jolted awake with a gasp, sitting up so fast that his head collided solidly against the wall with an explosion of static in his optics. "Frag!" He swore uncharacteristically, rubbing the back of his helm where a distinctive dent had formed. Sighing, he on-lined is optics and glanced around his room, the vision still fresh and powerful on his mind. He could still feel the searing pain of his wings, half-melted and missing vital components…

Wait…

His gaze shifted towards the door as a frown pulled at his lips behind his mask. He wasn't so far asleep that he didn't know where those visions from come from, or rather from whom. He rose slowly and opened the door, peering out into the main room. It was dark and dormant, a clear indicating Skyfire had finally departed. The computer was on stand-by mode, and Starscream was still seated in front of it, slumped over the console, head across his arms, appearing for all the world to be in recharge. But Optimus knew better. If it hadn't been for the dream, he might have passed off the wing twitches as just normal for the recharging seeker. However, he was absolutely certain that the twitching fingers and low breaths of sharp intakes in his vents was NOT normal. "Starscream." He said quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. The mech twitched in response but didn't wake. However, Optimus was suddenly plunged into a sense of disorientation as another vision struck him, however this time it was strange since he was still aware his optics were open and focused on Starscream, but at the same time he could see the images flashing through his mind. A pained scream, brief jolt of black as his head collided with a wall before he was lifted into the air and slammed against a well. The voice shouting at him was distant, distorted, the words incoherent and angry but mixed among static filling his optics. But the face pressed close to his was clearly recognizable. There was a feral gleam of rage and hate in Megatron's optics as his face hung inches from the field of vision before him. But even more disturbing was the sudden pressure in a place that Optimus knew was NOT a welcome place for pressure to be. And the worst part was there was absolutely no way to stop the powerful vise-like grip holding him there, one hand on the throat, the other pressing a wing to the wall so hard the metal began to give beneath his hand. Fear and panic welled up within him, along with a cold-feeling sense of helplessness.

Optimus gasped and immediately slammed up his mental barriers, and the images vanished. But beneath his hand, Starscream was quivering, lips moving in a silent plea that was very clearly evident. Optimus didn't have to hear the words to know what they were. "Starscream!" He said firmly, grabbing the mech firmly by both shoulders this time, and pulling him into a sitting position, shaking him lightly. "Wake up!"

The seeker started awake with a shriek of fear, and before Optimus knew what was happening, he found himself flying over the desk only to land hard on the ground, two pedes slamming down on his chest with a ferocious force as right before his eyes, Starscream's arms warped and twisted, re-forming into twin glowing barrels that emerged from his forearms, energy roiling off the ends with snapping hisses of electricity that made him wince. However, as Optimus was bracing himself to prepare for the blast, he noticed that Starscream did not fire. His optics glowed furiously bright, twin points of gleaming hellfire boring down into him with pure raw hatred, however a recognizing tug at his spark let him know that the Seeker had snapped out of his blind reaction and come to his senses if only barely enough to realize that the mech who had attacked him was NOT Megatron.

For a long time they just stared at one another, then slowly Starscream lowered his arms, optics dimming slightly. An icy silence hung between them, before slowly the seeker lifted his pedes and stepped off Optimus' chassis. "Thank you." Optimus tenderly rubbed the gouged and bent metal of his abdomen and lower chest, wincing a bit. "You are stronger than you look, Starscream."

"It comes in handy when fighting opponents larger than yourself." Was the terse response.

"I take it you are not speaking of Autobots."

"Not in the slightest."

Optimus sat up slowly, wincing as his chassis audibly groaned with the action. His optics trailed over to the weapons in Starscreams' arms. "How long have you had those? I thought Ratchet disabled your weapons."

Distractedly, the Seeker glanced down at his forearms, lifting them up to study the weapons with a flash of curiosity in his optics. "I have no idea." Was the low mutter. "But they are my design… however I never built these."

Optimus studied the weapons, curiously. "Are they null rays?"

"Not exactly." Was the cryptic response. "Null rays were handy during the war. Not so much in this day and age… not when I spent vorns plotting just what I would do when I escaped…" His voice turned dark. "These pack considerable more… kick."

"Primus must have decided it was best you could defend your half of the Matrix."

"No doubt." The weapons retreated into his arms with a shift of metal and gears, locking into place seamlessly beneath his plating. Slowly, Starscream walked over to a seat and sunk down into it with a heavy sigh, his head dropping into his palm as Optimus rose to his feet, and turned to watch him.

"You were dreaming." He saw a light optic ridge twitch in response, but Starscream said nothing. "Is that common?" The seeker's lips pulled back into a small grimace, but he still remained silent. However, his silence was an affirmative. "That was Vos, wasn't it." Optimus mused quietly. Starscream's optics snapped up to stare at him intently. "I read the reports on the attack. I did not realize you were there."

"Of course I was there." Was the sharp retort. "All Seekers were."

"But they said there were no survivors."

"Except me and my trine." Was the bitter reply.

"How did you survive?"

His optics flared brighter, boring into him intently. "We fought." He hissed. "And refused to stop. We fought until we were the last mechs standing. And THAT is where Megatron found us."

Optimus frowned, but accepted this. He knew war was war, and he likely didn't want to know anything more. "Megatron." He muttered, the name sending a feeling of bitterness flooding into his spark, met with a surge of raw and utter hatred flaring across the bond. "I understand your obsession now." Starscream stiffened, but said nothing, and Optimus felt no need to press him. Instead, he moved forward and placed a hand on the seeker's shoulder, which tensed beneath him but did not pull back. "Not everyone is so cruel." He said in a low quiet voice. "The most important lesson from life we can learn, is that each mech is different. Do not let one ruin it for you."

Starscream didn't respond at first, and Optimus thought he should leave the mech be, but then he surprised him with a soft phrase. "Not everyone is as lucky as you, Autobot. I don't expect a rich aristocrat like you to even come close to comprehending what someone like ME went through."

"Someone like you?" Optimus asked quietly. "From what I do know of you Starscream, you made a point to change what cards fate dealt you by enrolling in the Iacon Science Academy. I know how difficult that place is to apply to let alone become accepted to." His lips twitched slightly at an attempt at a smile, but Starscream continued staring blankly at the floor over his hands. "I know you were the top of your class as well. No one could reach those heights without perseverance and dedication, don't short-change yourself."

A dark scowl crossed his face and Starscream's optics snapped upwards to stare directly at him. "Short-change myself, Prime?" He hissed in a low voice. "You have NO idea what I've been through, so don't pretend you do know."

Optimus frowned, studying him. "I'm not as naive as you think." He said in an even tone. "I already know glimpses of your childhood, your youth, and your life before and during the war, as well as after. I know enough. And yes, it is a dark path you have walked, I make no reservations about that, nor about the number of mechs you have killed to travel that road, but I do know that putting all that aside, before me sits a mech with intelligence, motivation, determination and foresight. Primus chose to bind our fates together in this manner for a reason, and I begin to understand why. You are, as I am, a leader and an innovative thinker, Starscream." He glanced up sharply, eyeing him with surprise. "Perhaps he did know what he was doing, linking us together. Your way of approaching problems, your way of thinking is completely different from mine, and vice versa. Perhaps it is through this that we can solve this problem and unite Cybertron. For it is clear to me that I cannot do it alone."

Starscream eyed him, optics curious as he studied his face with a sudden interest and intensity. "You think so?" He finally asked. "You think that Primus wasn't just fragging us over by doing this?" His optics narrowed suspiciously. "I think he was just having a good laugh at our expense."

"No, I don't believe he was." Optimus said quietly with a shake of his head. "Primus is many things, but a prankster, manipulator, I think not. No, he had his reasons, and while we may resent them simply because we do not understand them at the moment, it does not mean that we can't figure this out and learn to use this to our advantage."

Starscream's optics narrowed, but he didn't disagree, instead his gaze suddenly snapped lower, leaving Optimus' optics and fastening somewhere else. "Why do you wear that?"

Optimus blinked. "Pardon?"

"Your facemask." The seeker glanced up at him, optics intense. "You never remove it. I don't see the functionality of having an irremovable facemask and you clearly have to consume energon, so why don't you let anyone see you without it?"

He smiled slightly at that, optics reflecting his amusement. "I'm not quite sure." He said after a moment. "When I was upgraded, it was standard with the build I was given." He chuckled quietly. "I suppose it made me appear more respectable, intimidating."

"Upgraded?" Starscream's tone sounded oddly curious. "You weren't always this model? What were you before?"

"Remember, I was just a simple dock worker." Optimus shook his head slightly, reminding him of his origins. "No different from any other standard mech build. I didn't even have an alt mode at that point, I didn't require one for my job."

"And so you were upgraded after you became Prime?"

Optimus' gaze lowered. "Yes." He said after a long pause. "It is not something I commonly relay to others, but most are not curious about my origins. I suppose when you are seen as the leader, everyone just assumes you were sparked that way."

"No one's just 'sparked' that way." Starscream said dryly. "Not even Megatron. He USED to be a decent mech, you know." Optimus lifted an optic ridge curiously. "Don't ask how I found out." Starscream sighed, a disgusted expression crossing his face. "Needless to say, he talks a LOT when he's drunk…" He frowned, pressing his lips together, then lifted his gaze and jerked his chin towards Optimus. "So that thing." He gestured at his chest with a careless hand. "It changed you from who you used to be into someone else, completely ignoring your will?"

"It is an honor to be the Prime, Starscream." Optimus said firmly, straightening a little and fixing him with a firm look. "It may not have been my choice at the time, but I would not take it back now for anything in the world. I know my destiny, and it is to be the Prime. I have grown to respect and love my position, despite it's origins and trials."

Starscream just fixed him with a look, and smirked. "Yeah right." He said pointedly. "So THAT'S why you hide behind that thing." He waved a hand towards his face. "You're hiding who you had to give up to become this new reformed impressive person."

Optimus frowned. "I am not. I simply am accustomed to it."

"Then retract it."

He blinked, and a strange sensation squeezed at his spark. "Why?"

"Because." Starscream's smirk grew. "I think that you're afraid to let go, to show everyone who you really are. You hide behind it because it's convenient, it's a place to hide from everyone right in plain sight. How do I know you're not making faces at me behind that thing?"

"I am not." Optimus said rather indignantly. "Don't be absurd."

"Then prove me wrong." Starscream said in a low voice. Suddenly, he moved forward quicker than Optimus expected, face inches away, so close that he heard the rotors of his optics as they studied his face intently. "Because believe me, Optimus. I know masks very well. The only difference between us is, yours has a tangible form."

If it was awkward before with a Decepticon and an Autobot sharing close quarters, it was even more so now that Optimus couldn't look away from Starscream's face. It was so expressive, so ALIVE. Every emotion he experienced seemed to reflect in him somehow, rage, sarcasm, anger, amusement. His optics and face were a myriad of emotions, ever shifting like the wind. He supposed it had something to do with the flightiness of the seeker line, a very volatile model to begin with. But he'd never realized just how sharply cut Starscream's facial plating was. Each line was elegant, streamlined, precise. It meant that he was anything but ordinary to admire, though Optimus had never seen past the emblems that once had been emblazoned on his wings like a shield. Factions meant nothing here anymore. It was unlikely that anyone would have recognized Starscream if there had been more than three seekers who had survived Vos. He would have been able to walk around without fear, had that been true. Unfortunately it wasn't. And Optimus was quite unnerved that this seeker was making him feel suddenly as if he were a youngling again, uncertain of his path. He frowned, about to reject his request, proclaim it was ridiculous, but the more that he held Starscream's gaze, the more he suddenly just wanted to give in. He wasn't sure what it was, why he felt the urge to do as he asked. Perhaps it was that no one else had seen him as an equal, no one had stood eye-to-eye with him as Prime, he was always above everyone, always superior due to his rank, his responsibility. But now, suddenly, he realized that he did have an equal, and unlike his last rival, this one was not attempting to offline his spark at the moment. Though, with Starscream one never knew.

But in the end, his resolve wavered, and in silence, his battle mask clicked and retreated back into either side of his helm.

Starscream's optics did not shift as they studied his now bare face, instead seeming to want to take in the whole, rather than the newly revealed part. He stared down with those alluring crimson orbs, slowly scanning the face in front of him before a slow smirk spread over his face. "There, that wasn't so bad was it?" Optimus opened his mouth to respond, but found he had nothing to say and shut it again quickly. This seemed only to amuse the seeker more, as he shifted slightly on his lap, much to his chagrin as his systems immediately heated up at the action. There was something far too close to his pelvic plating, and he had a sneaking suspicion as to what it was.

What was worse, Starscream noticed. He paused, optics bearing down on him with a sudden flash of amusement. "You are attracted to me." He finally announced, lifting an optic ridge as if in question, though the sentence had not been one. "Now isn't that interesting."

Optimus grimaced rather uncomfortably. So many thoughts were running through his head, but none of them he felt particularly fond of pursuing out loud. Finally, he settled for a generality. "I am a mech, Starscream. Prime I may be, but still a mech like any others. The only difference is, I know my place, and it is not to take advantage of others."

"And what if they're willing?" Was the languid reply.

His spark stuttered in his chassis. Surely he wasn't hinting at what he thought he was. "I don't think that would be appropriate…"

"And why not?" Starscream asked, straightening a little, still lounging on his lap, his hands loosely draped over his shoulders almost casually. "As you said, you are a mech, as am I. You are Prime, and technically, in some twisted sense, so am I. And we both happen to be forced to share the same living space, and we are technically already united, even if it was done without our consent. The deed is done, who are we to say we should not benefit from it."

"Because it would not be proper."

"Screw proper." Starscream hissed, pushing his face so close that Optimus could feel the heat of his exhaust as his fans spun in his shoulders. His optics were burning with a bright crimson fire, intently staring down at him. "When's the last time you were laid?"

"That is not an appropriate question!"

"You have two choices here," Starscream said, lips quirking into a smirk again. "Either tell me yourself, or I rifle through your head on my own."

"You wouldn't…"

"Try me, Optimus."

Optimus scowled. A genuine frustrated scowl. This only served to amuse the seeker more, as he grinned wider, optics narrowing with amusement and coy behavior. "It was a long time." He finally admitted grudgingly. "When Elita was alive."

Starscream blinked, and pulled back with obvious surprise. "That was near the beginning of the war! You can't seriously expect me to believe that through this whole fragging conflict you remained abstinent?"

"It was not my place to take favor with one of my men, Starscream." He said tersely, trying to keep his tone even. "I had to command authority and respect."

"And sacrifice your own needs?" Starscream snorted. "Tell me you at least took care of them your own way."

"Of course."

"Good." There was a light slap to his shoulder. "You had me worried there for a moment." He shifted back, sitting up as he studied him thoughtfully. "And what's your excuse now?" He asked, lifting an optic ridge.

He opened his mouth, then shut it again, frowning. "It would not be right."

"Why?"

"Because. We were linked together to perform a duty, not to exploit the side-effects."

"Bull." Starscream snorted, obviously having taken a liking to human terms thanks to their stay on Earth. "You have no good excuse, you just think you're too good to lower yourself to screwing a Decepticon."

"You are not a slave, Starscream!" Optimus protested, feeling a swell of anger surging through his spark.

The seeker's optic ridge lifted, and he leaned forward again, this time pushing his fingers against the sensitive grillwork of Optimus' front chassis. It was all the mech could do not to utter a sound, though his lips tightened as he fought a grimace. "Do you know why Megatron loved to treat me differently from the others? I can tell you, it wasn't just because I mouthed off to him every chance I could get." He smirked. "It was because I frustrated him at every single turn." With the last few words, he prodded the grate, smirking wider as Optimus' chassis heated up even more. "Because I knew exactly what he wanted, where he wanted it, and how he wanted it. I was very good at what I did, and very good at not giving it when I was displeased."

"I'm not sure that is something to be ultimately proud of." Optimus muttered.

"You're probably right," Starscream admitted snorting slightly. "But how else was I going to get what I wanted? I am a seeker, seekers always have been looked down upon as weaker fighters, with exception to aerial forces in which they excel. I had to fight my way to become second in command, and it was not an easy battle. And once I got there, I found I had to contend with other mechs who wanted to take that position for themselves. Soundwave was one of them, that irritating fragger always knew exactly how to thwart me in every attempt, because he could read minds. Any plan I made, any thought I had, he knew it. So, I had to find other ways to impress my commander."

"By prostituting yourself?"

Starscream hissed low in his throat, his optics narrowing in anger. "No." He growled, grip tightening rather painfully on Optimus' grill. "I would never lower myself to that status, despite my reputation, Prime." He growled darkly, his expression positively stormy. "Trust me, I am well aware what everyone thought of me. But I can promise you that much of it was greatly exaggerated."

"And you expect me to believe that?" Optimus asked dryly. "I am no fool, Starscream."

For the longest moment, Optimus thought Starscream was going to lunge out and strike him. His crimson optics practically lit up with fury and anger, and his mouth opened as he prepared to say something. But then, mid-thought he seemed to change his mind. Abruptly, he got up and slipped off Optimus' lap and turned away with a sharp abrupt motion. "You know what, forget it. You're clearly not interested."

Optimus frowned. Starscream sounded flippant and casual, but there was something odd pressing in at him, and it took him a moment to realize what it was. His spark was feeling quite strange, almost aching as if in pain. It was a long startled moment before he realized that it wasn't his own pain he was feeling, but the sudden wash of rejection and loneliness filtering in from the other spark he was tied to. Starscream slammed the door to his room hard enough to rattle the meager photos Optimus had hanging on the wall, and it was then that the true emotions hit him like a powerful wave. He had to grip the edge of the chair for support as he felt anger, rejection, pain, hurt, loneliness and self-hatred sweeping through him through the volatile spark he had been bonded with. It was so strong, so powerful, that moments after it started, he was a bit startled to begin to interpret more than emotions, but thoughts filtering through. Thoughts, images, flashes of images that were sudden and dark, violent images of pain and anguish.

It was then that he understood why Starscream had been so upset.

The images of violence, pain, and brutality were all very clearly surrounding one mech and his desire to cause just that, to have it every which way no matter what protests and pleas were thrown his way. With Starscream's emotions this volatile and open to him, it didn't take him long to catch a very clear and morbid glance of just what he and Megatron had done, or rather, what Megatron had done to his second-in-command, clearly against his will and by force.

Optimus closed his optics, pushing his fingers to the side of his head to try and break contact with the stream of images flooding into his processor. It took effort to block them out, extreme effort in fact, but finally he was able to suppress them behind the wall separating their two minds. And it was just as well.

He felt violently ill.

Starscream had been barely older than a youngling when he had experienced that unfortunate event that had cost him his friend, and sent him spiraling into a dark core of despair in which he had been pulled out of by the only mech who seemed strong enough to scare the seeker out of his wits enough to prevent suicide.

Megatron.

The tyrant had begun raping him that very night after he had found him drunken and dangerously low on energy, thrown into the gutter like garbage after being cast out of the bar he had overcharged himself in.

Of course it hadn't been rape at first, at least in Starscream's twisted misery. He had found solace in being violently taken, the pain had washed away the pain in his spark, for a time. But after it continued on and on, he began to realize it was less of a consensual thing, especially after he had denied Megatron one night, too tired after a mission to join him in his berth.

That was the first night he had been beaten nearly to the edge of his life.

Optimus knew he had only gotten a small glimpse, but Starscream's thoughts were incredibly poignant on those first few years at the moment, and it was hard to block everything out as he re-lived it, forgetting or perhaps not knowing his thoughts were not private any longer. The seeker had felt humiliated beyond words, he had tried to reason with the tyrant, to worse ends. He had tried fighting him, only to end up losing terribly and being the victim of an even worse encounter as the tyrant took his rage out on him. He understood the loneliness now, the rejection, the intense desire to have something he WANTED rather than being forced to take it. Starscream had never had that, not even once in his life. His trine mates had tried, but they themselves were bonded, a fact that Optimus was a bit startled to discover. Their bond transcended the trine bond, and therefore there was nothing they could do for their commander.

A strange tight feeling of sadness clutched at Optimus's spark. Not once in his life had Starscream experienced the true bonds of emotion that came born from passion, care and fondness. He only knew violence.

He pushed a hand to his forehead. No wonder the seeker was so quick to anger. Was there not a single positive experience he could pull on to calm his spark?

Optimus' gaze wandered back to the closed door. What had Primus truly intended, he wondered. Had he known what Starscream had suffered through? Surely he did, for he had intervened in the seeker's life now twice. So if that was the case, he must have known the suffering that Starscream had gone through at the hands of others. And if he knew that, he must have known how Optimus had felt after Elita's death. No one could replace the first love, your soul mate. But two pining sparks split by tragedy could become companions in the strangest of ways.

"I am going to regret this." Optimus murmured to himself, shaking his head as he slowly rose and walked to Starscream's door. He paused, lifting his hand to knock, but he somehow knew that it was not the best approach. Instead, he simply opened the door, finding it unlocked. The interior of the room was nearly pitch black, the lights were off and the night dark outside, curtains pulled. It was deathly silent in the room, but as he entered, he could instinctively feel Starscream's presence. The seeker was not laying on his berth, but was huddled against the wall, arms wrapped around his knees, optics offline, wings hunched up and quivering very slightly, the only indication of the wildly tumultuous emotions surging behind the mental barrier Optimus had erected between them. If Starscream noted his presence, he made no indication, optics offline and half-hidden behind his arms crossed over his knees. Slowly, he stepped forward as not to startle the mech, sitting down on the berth beside him. Then, he gently reached out and placed his hand against the wing closest to him, gently rubbing the surface with his fingers in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.

It elected a response. Starscream shivered suddenly, optics going from dark to dim as he half-lifted his head, glancing over at him with a drawn face. "What do you—" he started to ask, voice hoarse with emotion.

Optimus silenced him with a move that even surprised him. He leaned over and before Starscream could finish, he pushed his lips firmly against his, and stole the words right from his mouth with a tender kiss. At first, Starscream stiffened, obviously surprised as his optics flared brighter, and for a moment it seemed he might pull away. But Optimus lightly ran his hand along the flat surface of the seeker's wing, and was surprised at how receptive Starscream was as a low moan escaped his throat through the kiss, along with a frame-rattling shudder. Optimus slowly pulled back, their lips parting with a small breathy sigh as Starscream stared up at him, optics churning with confusion. "I'm sorry." Optimus said softly, his fingers still lightly tracing patterns on the metal of Starscream's wing. "I did not know the details of what you had gone through, and assumed. It was wrong of me."

Starscream grimaced faintly, optics dimming as he glanced aside, gaze focusing on some insignificant dent in the other mechs' shoulder rather than his optics. "You saw all of that?"

"Yes." Optimus said, deciding honesty was the best course. "Why do you hold all of this inside? Why do you tell no one of it? Do you think we might think less of you if we knew you were not invincible, that you had weaknesses?"

"Weaknesses are a death sentence for a Decepticon." Was the mumbled reply. "You learn to hide them."

"You do not have to hide them now." He replied softly, fingers ghosting over the metal where once a purple emblem had been emblazoned. "I promise, I will not judge you, Starscream. It is my belief that you have been judged once, and deemed acceptable by Primus himself. As you said, who are we to argue what is presented to us?"

"But…"

He pushed harder on the particular spot in the seeker's wing he had noticed was extremely receptive, and found that Starscream's sentence was abruptly cut off with a small glitch in his processor and hitch of his fans. "You are right. It has been a very long time for me. And yet, it seems that I am the one out of both of us who has had the more recent memorable experience in the positive degree." Starscream flinched slightly, only slightly, but he could feel it through the metal in his wing. "Why don't we stop living in regrets and memories. I think we both are overdue this."

Starscream shuddered, his vents hissing warm air into the room, crimson optics watching him with a strange expression of what Optimus realized after a moment was anxiety. He could feel the concern sweeping through the bond, and instead of pushing it away, he opened the block again, grimacing as the emotions swept through him, but bore them for a moment, before reciprocating his own feelings of self-assuredness and calm. The seeker's breath caught for a moment, his optics flickering with surprise as he stared up at him, and then a very odd thing happened.

To this day, Optimus swore that he would had never have seen such a thing during the war, but Starscream smiled up at him, a smile untouched by sarcasm, cruelty or mocking. He smiled genuinely up at him with what he only could interpret as relief, and gratitude.

Optimus wasn't sure who started it. All he knew was that at one point he found sitting on the berth to be uncomfortable, and they were both on the ground, entangled in one another's limbs, bodies both heating up with energy as fingers found sensitive points that made the other squirm and writhe in pleasure, kisses heated and breathtaking, stealing their thoughts from their processors as their bodies reacted on their own in a swell of passion and instinct. It wasn't long before Optimus found himself panting for breath, oil trickling down his neck cables and forehead as his cables opened their pores to release excess build-up, the seeker glistening beneath him in the same sheen as he panted for breath, optics bright and enflamed as he lay on his back, some armor plating loose from their tussle on the floor. Emotional lines were blurred at this point, and Optimus honestly could not tell which were his own feelings, and which were his bond mates'. In truth, he found it didn't truly matter, as the emotions flooding through him felt intense and true, real for them both, unbarred by barriers as a cry of pleasure escaped the seeker's lips as their bodies pressed together, heated and sensitive to every touch and pressure.

Before he knew it, he felt fingers prying at his lower plating, and he released them obligingly, feeling cool air greet his swollen internals as the metal armor was tossed carelessly aside. But as Starsream's hands lifted towards his already throbbing cable, he reached down and caught them, azure optics bright like blue fire. The seeker looked up at him briefly, maddened optics bright with lust. "No." Optimus whispered softly. "Not yet."

"Why?" Was the hoarse response. "Don't you want to?"

"Yes." Optimus smiled slightly, lips quirking freely as his mask still remained retracted. "But this time, you will not work for it, Starscream."

If the seeker remained puzzled, he did not remain so, as Optimus pried at his plating and removed it, revealing the seeker's own personal interfacing system. Understanding and wonder filled Starscream's optics as Optimus lightly traced a finger down the tense cable. A low moan escaped Starscream's lips and his frame tensed, arching slightly into the contact as Optimus gently began to continue his treatment, lightly stroking the cable with his fingers, smiling as he felt it tighten even more under his ministrations. He only paused briefly to blink with surprise as something unusual caught his optics. Most mechs were output only in front. This was simple practicality, as having both input and output in the front tended to make things difficult, thus it was the femmes who had output only in the front. This made interfacing different between mechs to femmes and mechs to mechs. While posterior input was present in all mechs due to their exhaust lines, for some it was not pleasurable, and thus true interfacing was rarely done. Optimus had the experience of being with a femme, and had never spent time with a mech in this manner, though he well knew from other's exploits what to expect, much to his chagrin at times.

He had not expected to encounter both input and output present in Starscream, but there it was. It was clear that the input was not as large as femme's were, but it was still present there beneath his cable as Optimus paused in his stroking. It was barely large enough to fit a cable of any size, and he wondered why on earth seekers had two functions. What purpose did it serve? Why would they need a data upload port for interfacing?

His thoughts were interrupted by a low protesting groan from the seeker beneath him, and he smiled slightly. Well, it didn't matter. He resumed his light touches, taking a strange pleasure in watching Starscream gasp, writhing beneath him as he ran his fingers along the cable, tracing the lines there of thick fibers that made up the data connections, tracing his fingers over the sensitive nodes at the end which elected a screech of surprise from the flier. With a naughty smile, he leaned over, and pushed his lips against the cable, and was rewarded by the screeching of metal on metal as Starscream's fingers dug into the floor as he cried out in pleased surprise as Optimus promptly swallowed the entire length of the cable up to it's hilt in his mouth. He had never before done something this dirty, but there was a definite thrill of pleasure in watching Starscream gasp and pant beneath him, his cable was tense and throbbing, his hips quivering as they tried to keep from squirming as Optimus lightly wrapped his glossa around the cable and tightened his grip. The cry was unlike anything he imagined audible from a mech, a strangled gasp of pleasure and frustration as Starscream bucked against him, thrusting his own cable sharply into Optimus' mouth, which only seemed to make things worse for the seeker. Slowly, Optimus slid his mouth off the cable, watching as tremors crept down Starscream's wings at the motion, and he nipped the tip as he slid it out his mouth. The seeker let out a very forceful and particularly colorful curse at that. Chuckling to himself, Optimus smiled and straightened up slightly, leaning over him as he positioned himself carefully. He was a bit worried, as he carefully connected his own rigid cable to Starscream's port, as the moment he felt the tip pierce through the thin metal doors shutting the chamber, he knew it was going to be a tight fit. Some femmes he knew were built smaller, but Elita had never had any discomfort with him. As he pushed down on the seeker, however, he heard Starscream grunt with obvious discomfort and he paused. "Do you want me to…"

"No, shut up." Was the panted gasp. "Keep going, fragger."

Slowly, Optimus pushed down, lightly stroking Starscream's cable as he pushed his own down into the tiny port, feeling the tight fit push in on him, feeling the pulse of Starscream's spark through the thin walls, and eventually he found that there was no way of continuing without a little help. He felt somewhat awkward, but he gave a firm thrust into the seeker and Starscream gasped, hands immediately going to his thighs and gripping tightly as his port clenched automatically, sending a strange ripple of pleasure through Optimus as he thrust again, and again, each time the pulse grew stronger, harder, as his cable slowly slid all the way in. It seemed excruciatingly tight when finally he felt the base of his cable connect with the port at the back of Starscream's data canal, locking them in tightly. By now, they were both panting, covered in oil, and Optimus was having trouble keeping himself from rising to the feeling of the port clenching tightly around his cable, pulsing with each breath Starscream took. It was like being connected to someone, physically welded together. It was something so close, he had never experienced anything like it before. He leaned over, draping himself over the panting seeker as he carefully twisted his cable inside the port. Starscream groaned loudly, fingers digging sharply into his shoulders as he slipped his hands up around them, pulling him tightly into a crushing embrace. "Oh… frag… me…." Was the hoarse whisper in his audial.

"As you wish." Optimus whispered back. And with that, he slowly pulled out. He could feel the lubricant sliding along his cable, making it easy to pull back out. And it meant that going in this second time was a bit easier… but no less intense as he pushed back in, hard and fast.

Starscream cried out loudly, his grip tightening to dent-making level as Optimus repeated the process, pulling out, then slamming back in again, and again, and again until they were both shaking, their energy fields fluctuating wildly around them and he felt a sudden heat building in his neither sections as an overload approached.

Starscream made the most interesting sounds. At first he had cried out just in a loud voice, then he had screamed. But now, there was the most peculiar keening wail coming from his throat, a pitch that Optimus had never thought vocally possible as he slammed into the seeker again, and felt him tense against him, grinding down in response to the thrust.

And then it happened.

There was a snap and bright light exploded in the room, not from an overload, but surprisingly enough from the chest plates in Starscream's cockpit that had just slid aside and revealed his brightly golden spark pulsing wildly in plain view, the matrix-half snuggled down close to it, blue tendrils of light wrapped around the seeker's spark almost like a parasite, though in an elegant design that made Optimus suddenly feel like weeping as he watched the blue and gold lights pulse in tandem. His own spark chamber snapped open as energon tears trickled down his cheeks, and he leaned forward, knowing they both needed a spark merge at this point.

To his surprise, Starscream's hands tightened and prevented him from completing the act, though their energies teased each other, dancing inches apart, begging to be united. "Wait." Was the hoarse plea, and he turned his gaze down, barely able to contain himself from simply forcing the Seeker to comply. But something in Starscream's optics made him pause. "Baffles." The seeker gasped out.

"Starscream," Optimus managed through grit teeth, trying to keep his overload from exploding out before it was time. "I don't have any communicable diseases, I assure you… and Primus repaired your body, I don't think he would keep your spark tainted with any."

The seeker's lips twitched in amusement, and his grip tightened almost gently. "You idiot…." He panted hoarsely. "For Primus' sake, just use them so we can frag each other silly!"

Optimus stared at him, baffled himself, but obligingly forced his baffles into place, a thin netting surrounding his spark as he triggered the command. He watched as Starscream strained to do the same, thin netting covering his spark. Once in place, they didn't wait, but leaned together, sparks already calling out desperately to one another. They weren't disappointed, and with a flair of light and intense emotions, their sparks united. The wash of emotions and feelings exchanged while sharing spark energies was something that could never be accurately described in words. It was pure euphoria, feeling the other person's rapture mingling with your own, the ultimate rush. And this time was no less spectacular. Their emotions slammed into one another, mingling and dancing about, sending strong overwhelming waves of power into them both. Optimus was aware of someone screaming in rapture, and he was truly positive that he had no clue which one of them it was.

Fortunately, the waves of bliss ended with a sweet embrace of overload and collapse into stasis.


	7. Chapter 7

**Dichotomy of Good and Evil**

By: nightelfcrawler

_Author's Note: M/M quite obviously here, along with non-consensual relationships, and violence. Another story I've had sitting around for a while I figured I would publish._

_Once again, slow updates. IRL issues, lack of creativity, and new living situation = not much time for writing. But I haven't forgotten about the story, honest!_

**Chapter Seven**

Waking was very interesting. He came online slowly, feeling warm and content, something that he had not felt in a very long time. He felt lethargic and heavy, and as he onlined his optics, his view was filled with a sleek curved helm nuzzled up against his chin. Optimus smiled lightly, optics lowering to stare at the curved frame of the Seeker snuggled up against him. Starscream had clearly either remained online longer than he, or had woken up once and slipped back into recharge, as he was laying almost on top of him, having reversed positions so he was face down, laying contentedly on Optimus' chest. There was a strange vibration coming from his vents which sounded strangely enough like an earth cat purring. Optimus couldn't help but smile at that. He had never seen Starscream content. No malice, no anger, no sneer, but a genuine warm smile on his slumbering face. Like this, he seemed so innocent, the war had never happened, they were just two mechs who had shared an incredible night.

Unfortunately, it naturally couldn't last. From outside in the main room, the door still cracked open, he could hear the buzz of the doorbell. Sighing, he let his head fall back with a small clunk. Honestly, for ONE slagging day could he not be left alone to enjoy himself?

"Mmmf. Who the frag is up this early?" Came a muffled moan from his chest.

"Someone who clearly has no sense of timing." Optimus replied, smiling slightly. "I should get that."

"Ignore them." Was the firm reply. "I'm comfortable."

Optimus chuckled. "I would love to…" the door buzzing turned to firm knocking. "But it seems that it's important."

"Oh fraggit." Starscream growled, rolling off of him grumpily, yawning widely. He hadn't even bothered to close himself up, something Optimus found oddly tempting. Instead, he flopped back on his berth with a frustrated snort, and seemed to drift back into recharge.

Optimus sighed and rose, closing his own personal parts and making his way to the door. Upon opening it, he saw Prowl looking a bit distressed. "Optimus, there's something serious going on." The tactician said quickly, not even seeming to notice that the Prime's face mask was retracted. "We need to talk immediately."

"Slow down." Optimus rumbled quickly, putting a hand on Prowl's shoulder. "What's going on?"

"The council has decided to make some rash choices. They're in a closed session right now, but we heard rumors about what they're planning from an inside source who came to us the moment he found out when they went in to deliberate. Primus, Optimus… it's bad."

"Bad as in how bad?"

"Bad as in taking matters into their own hands and circumventing you." Prowl said urgently. "They've been slowly cutting you out of their processes lately, but I think this is the final straw. I think they're going to remove you as our official leader."

Optimus' optics narrowed. "They cannot do that."

"Well they're going to."

Optimus sighed, pressing his fingers to his forehead. "This is not what I expected. I had thought they would be more reasonable rather than act on their own lust for power."

"Well apparently you were incorrect." Prowl said uncomfortably. "Prime, I'm afraid that they might overreact. If they come here and see who you've got stashed away…"

"Then we shan't let them find out this way." Optimus interrupted firmly. "It is time we addressed this problem head-on."

Prowl started. "What do you mean? You can't be thinking of confronting them?"

"If it isn't done now, it will never be done." Optimus said quietly. "This has gone too far. The slaves, the poisoned energon, the rules being set in motion, I can see a second war starting up all over again if we don't stop it now."

"You know you have most of the old teams' support." Prowl said quietly. "They aren't blinded by the council's empty promise of utopia, they see what's happening just as we do."

"Good. Can you arrange to gather everyone then somewhere for a meeting?"

"Yes, of course. We can meet at the club."

"Good. See if you can get everyone there in an hour."

Prowl stared at him intently. Then, with a completely straight face, "Good idea. You should probably clean that lubricant off yourself."

Optimus blinked, and felt his vents kick on as he became suddenly aware that he was indeed covered in dried lubricant on his lower portions, even though he'd covered up, it was stuck everywhere just the same. "Ahem… yes, thank you Prowl."

"Anytime."

It was only after the door was closed that Optimus put a hand to his face in rich embarrassment. Oh dear.

"What was that all about?" A tired question greeted his optics as Starscream wandered out of his bedroom, looking about as bedraggled as he himself no doubt was. "I felt you were upset."

Optimus sighed. There was no hiding anything from his bondmate, he understood, though now that they had made the bond technically officially, he found himself not minding. "The Council it seems has decided they are the ruling power of Cybertron. They are in deliberation, most likely to remove me from leadership."

Starscream's optics sharpened. "They can't do that. You're the Prime."

"I know." He said calmly, straightening up. "And they will not change that. They can not change it. The Matrix chooses it's own host, or hosts in our case. But they can do something rash, if we do not take action first." He glanced over at the seeker, gaze sharpening. "I think it's time we act as Primus intended us to do."

Starscream studied him intently, then nodded once, a wry smirk crossing his lips. "If it's a rebellion you want, I'm quite skilled in that area. Having plotted one downfall of authority, I have more than enough experience to get you started."

"I'm not sure if that should worry me or not."

Starscream just snorted and turned towards the shower, pausing in the doorway with a cheeky smirk. "Well? Are you coming or not?"

Optimus' engines rumbled. "You are insatiable."

"Always."

It was a tight fit for both of them in the shower. While the unit was tall enough for Optimus to comfortably reach over his head when needed, it's width was barely large enough for Starscream's wings to allow him to turn around with the two of them in there. Optimus didn't complain however, standing behind him and passing a large sponge over Starscream's wings, gently rubbing at some scratches that he'd sustained during their previous night's romp. Starscream purred happily, leaning into the scrubbing with a contented expression. Optimus couldn't help but smile, scrubbing the grime free before Starscream turned around and stole the sponge returning the favor. Optimus did his best to keep his emotions in check, feeling the cheekiness leaking through the bond as Starscream noticed his temperature spiking. As much as he would have loved to dirty themselves again, he considered it inappropriate considering their mission. But it didn't mean he couldn't probe into some of the more curious aspects of their union. "You purr when you sleep, you know."

"And you snore."

Optimus blinked but chuckled at the smirk Starscream gave him, shoving the sponge in his face. He accepted it, pushing down on the seeker's shoulders, taking note in the pleased expression on the mechs' face as he massaged the cables there. "May I ask you a personal question?"

"As opposed to what we're doing now, impersonal interaction naturally?"

"Point." He paused for a moment then spoke quietly. "How many other mechs have you… been with?"

Starscream paused and then slowly glanced up at him, optics suddenly scrutinizing. "Why?" He asked finally. "Does it really matter?"

"I'm just curious," Optimus said quietly. "You were so adamant about using baffles, I figured that you had reasons."

Starscream snorted at that, and looked up at him with a clearly disbelieving look. "Honestly, Optimus Prime. For the leader of our society, one would think you might familiarize yourself with the varying types of subjects you oversee."

Optimus just blinked blankly down at him. "I don't understand…"

"Didn't you wonder why I have both inputs and outputs?" Starscream purred, squeezing soapy water against his mates' sensitive lower plating, which made him squirm in response. "Or did you just find it kinky?"

"Well I did wonder…"

Starscream snorted, and pushed against his chassis, leaning forward on his turbines to whisper in his audials, lips brushing the metal lightly as he did so. "There are no femme seekers, you delicious fool, you."

Optimus felt his systems stir unwillingly, but as he processed the words, he felt his systems lock up. "Wait… you mean that you could…?"

"Create sparklings?" Starscream asked coyly. "Yes. All seekers can."

Optimus felt his head spinning. "But…. How? You're a mech!"

"Yes," Starscream mused, obviously taking great pleasure in teasing him. "But I am also a seeker." He leaned backwards, idly pushing the sponge along Optimus's lower portions, washing the lubricant from his thighs. "Seekers were a unique experiment when we were created. Due to the fact we are all very… different… in our ways of thinking, femme sparks usually self-destructed in the womb before being born, since their thought processes are much faster than mechs, and the increased pace made them unstable. Their sparks always dissolved. So the designers of the line made all the mechs capable of carrying a second spark and accepting programming input. It took some time to actually get our sparks to be able to split to create a second one, but they succeeded eventually, and well there you are." He leaned forward, optics half-moons and gleaming up at Optimus. "All seekers can procreate one way or the other, and while a seeker can only spark another seeker, we can also spark non-seekers if we merge with a non-seeker."

"That is… quite possibly the most disturbing thing I have ever considered." Optimus managed. "The concept of a mech sparking a second spark is a bit difficult to grasp."

Starscream snorted. "Don't worry. I have no intention of ever becoming a creator. Honestly, could you ever see me being a kind and loving father? Please." He snorted. "As long as we both use baffles, there's no chance of THAT happening."

"Good to know."

"But if it makes you feel better," Starscream tossed the sponge over his shoulder casually and leaned forward, looping his arms around Optimus' neck. "You are by far the best frag I have EVER had."

Optimus felt his face heat up, and he didn't resist as Starscream yanked his face down by his retracted facemask and kissed him firmly.

Needless to say, they wasted more water that day.


End file.
